


Impossible Year

by Ely



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: 707 Route Spoilers, Angst, Anxiety, Borderline Personality Disorder, Depression, Graphic Description of Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, but please be careful, only in one chapter, secret ending spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-16 18:57:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 51,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9285566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ely/pseuds/Ely
Summary: Saeran Choi is a self-proclaimed lost cause. Yoosung Kim doesn't believe in lost causes.





	1. there's no sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> just a few things before I start this off  
> this is based on the song 'Impossible Year' by Panic! at The Disco, and each chapter title will be a lyric from the song.  
> MC is called 'Minhee' because I needed to name her, but I don't like using 'MC' as a name.  
> rated mature for graphic content and angst, not sexual content. sorry!  
> SEE TAGS FOR TRIGGERS AND SPOILER WARNINGS!!

_**saeran** _

Saeran stared emptily at the ceiling of the room Saeyoung had given him. He didn’t see the point of being given a room. It would be easier for everyone involved if he were just kicked out onto the streets and starved to death. Why did he even need a room? The only thing he could do in here that he couldn’t do on the streets was wank. Well, he supposed he could wank on the streets if he wanted to, but he was pretty certain he’d get arrested for that.

Come to think of it, a prison cell wouldn’t be so bad either. Possibly better, because his personal space would probably be respected far more that it was in this fucking house. Saeyoung and that stupid girl Saeran had tricked into going to the Savior’s old apartment, Minhee, checked on him what felt like every five seconds, and he was sick of it. They expected him to engage with them, but he refused. They were always persistent for a few minutes before quickly giving up and heading back out the room, closing the door behind them as though that would make him feel like he had more privacy. There was no such thing as privacy in this house. He knew Saeyoung was just worried about him, but he didn’t really care.

That’s what he kept telling himself.

 _No._ It was the truth. He _didn’t_ care. He _couldn’t_ care, because as soon as he did, he would get betrayed again. Saeyoung promised he’d never leave him, but he’d made so many promises to Saeran as kids which he hadn’t hesitated to break when the opportunity arose. There was no way Saeran could trust him.

The strange emptiness inside him was suddenly interrupted by his heart wrenching in his chest, causing his breath to catch in his throat and tears to suddenly stab at his eyes. He snapped his eyes shut and held his breath. He wouldn’t cry. Saeyoung didn’t deserve any more of his tears. His hand flew to his throat and he gripped it, digging his nails into his skin, hopefully hard enough to bruise, in an attempt to stop his heart from escaping. He forced down these sudden feelings of _guilt_ and _sadness_ and _love_. No. He had nothing to feel guilty about, he had done nothing wrong. Saeyoung had ruined everything. He should feel angry, not sad. And he _definitely_ shouldn’t be feeling any kind of affection for that traitor.

It sickened him when he saw him, especially without his glasses. Had Saeran’s hair not been bleached white and pink, and his eyes not been green, they would have been difficult to tell apart. It was like looking in a mirror and seeing a past he wanted nothing more than to destroy. Saeyoung had abandoned him and Saeran had waited for him to come back. Now that they were reunited, there was nothing he wanted more than to escape.

He hadn’t attempted to escape for a while now. Maybe a week, maybe a month, Saeran didn’t know. He wasn’t particularly interested in keeping track of how long he spent here. He would wait it out until he could either run out the door or find something to end his life.

Saeyoung had removed pretty much everything from the house that Saeran could use to hurt himself, so Saeran was left with nothing more than his fingernails to rip into his skin. Saeyoung had even taken the lightbulbs out of Saeran’s room after he’d smashed one and attempted to use the glass.

He could choke or suffocate himself, but as much as Saeran wanted to die, he knew that he would pass out first, and Saeyoung would probably find him before enough time had passed. Then he might confiscate his fucking pillows too.

Killing himself would be the ultimate revenge, and would send Saeyoung into a spiralling pit of despair, from which he would hopefully never return.

Sometimes, Saeran wasn’t sure whether he should kill himself or kill Saeyoung. He’d tried both. He’d failed at both. He was a failure. He had disappointed the Savior and now he couldn’t even get his revenge.

Saeran opened his eyes again, thankful that the tears had dried up. They still stung slightly, but he wanted to look at the ceiling.

It wasn’t interesting. There weren’t even cracks in the paint. The most interesting things about it were the slight streaks he could see from the brush as it had changed directions while painting. Maybe he should stand on the bed and punch the paint to see if he could crack it and have something more interesting to look at.

Saeran’s head fell to the side, and he moved his attention to the wall. He gulped, and felt the tears threatening at his eyes again, but he refused to let them fall as he swallowed down the lump in his throat. He wished that there could at least be a window in this room. Or anywhere in the bunker. He wanted to look outside and see the sky. He was going stir crazy in this fucking place, and Saeyoung wouldn’t let him out. He was going to break his own hand punching a wall if he had to live the rest of his miserable life seeing nothing but Saeyoung and Minhee’s pitying expressions. He wanted to see the clouds and the shapes they made. He wanted to see the sun, to feel it beating down against his face. He knew it would stop him from feeling like he was about to cry every two seconds. Saeran squeezed his eyes shut and cursed his brother silently for making him feel this way. He raised his fist to his mouth and bit down on his knuckles. His hands and forearms were already scarred from how much he bit and dug his nails into them, but he didn’t care. He liked how they looked with the marks, and he loved the heartbroken look on Saeyoung’s face every time he saw new ones.

His eyes snapped back open when he heard the front door opening in that fucking annoying way it always did, accompanied by an unfamiliar voice.

A guest? Saeyoung never had guests.

Their voices were low and murmured, and Saeran’s closed door made it difficult for him to distinguish individual words. He took his fist from his mouth and sat up, wiping his saliva absently on the t-shirt he’d taken off and flung carelessly next to him on the bed. Saeyoung and the stranger’s voices were in the living room, and he heard the unmistakable sound of a games console starting up. Saeran frowned. He wasn’t aware Saeyoung spent time gaming.

Wait. In the RFA chatroom there had been that boy who looked like a twink and gamed pretty much all the time. Yoosung Kim. He’d seen him when he’d been hacking in, and it seemed like he barely did anything besides gaming. It also seemed as though he was pretty close to Saeyoung.

Must be an idiot. He would only get betrayed.

Saeran felt a strange rage growing inside him. Why did his brother get friends and he didn’t? And why had this stupid Yoosung boy been able to hang out and laugh with his brother while he was being tortured at Mint Eye? It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. No one needed, or even _wanted,_ Saeran.

He heard a shriek sound from the other room and narrowed his eyes before standing, storming over to his door and slamming it open. It gave him a sense of satisfaction to see how Saeyoung and Yoosung – he had been right, it was Yoosung – jumped at his sudden appearance.

“Saeran!” Saeyoung exclaimed, putting down his controller and standing, taking a few steps over towards his twin. Saeran’s eyes flicked to the screen to see some stupid driving game that was paused.

“Having fun?” he said coolly.

“Yeah, wanna join?” Saeyoung offered. His voice was bouncy but he sounded nervous. Maybe he was worried about Saeran scaring off his friend. Good. Saeyoung didn’t deserve friends, and Yoosung didn’t deserve to be friends with his brother.

“No,” Saeran said bluntly as he folded his arms. “I want you to shut up.” Yoosung’s eyes were wide, but strangely he didn’t look scared. Just… worried? Maybe for Saeyoung being in such close proximity to someone so disgusting and dangerous.

As Saeran folded his arms, Saeyoung’s eyes flicked to his hand and the fake smile fell from his face. He had seen the bite marks.

“Saeran…” Saeyoung whispered as he looked at him so sadly it almost made Saeran falter for a moment. He saw as Yoosung stood up behind Saeyoung and walk cautiously towards them.

Saeran could see the faint pink flush on Yoosung’s cheeks as he approached, and Saeran suddenly felt exposed. Not only was he shirtless, but his only way of covering himself was with his arms which were covered in ugly, disgusting scars. He didn’t want anyone seeing those either. His arms were now clutching each other across his chest rather than folded as they had been before, as though he was trying to hold himself together. He could feel his breathing rate start getting faster, and he suddenly felt desperate for Saeyoung’s help.

“Saeyoung,” he whispered, snapping his eyes back to his brother and feeling overwhelmingly guilty at the look of sadness evident on his face, “Help me.”

Saeyoung didn’t even hesitate, he ran the three remaining steps to reach his brother and placed his hands on his shoulders reassuringly as Saeran started shaking. Saeran’s head fell forwards and his eyes squeezed shut.

“Saeran, what is it? What’s happening?” he sounded panicked, and Saeran wanted nothing more than a hug right now.

“I… today… I’m all over the place,” he stuttered. He felt as though his throat was ripping itself open as he spoke. “Help me.”

“Did you take your meds today?” Saeyoung asked, clearly trying to stay as calm as possible. Saeran shook his head. Saeyoung had given them to him, but he’d angrily thrown them on the floor into the corner of his room. He wasn’t a fucking puppet to control.

Saeran leaned forwards slightly, trying to telepathically ask Saeyoung to hug him. Miraculously, he seemed to get the message and wrapped his arms around his brother’s shoulders, cradling his head against his chest.

Saeran noticed that Saeyoung’s shirt was wet, but then he realised it was because he had tears falling from his eyes. He could feel the deep rumbling in Saeyoung’s chest as he spoke, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“…medication…cupboard…my room…code…”

Saeran shook against his chest as his breathing got worse and worse, which only made him panic more. He couldn’t stop his body from shaking and he probably would have fallen to the floor had Saeyoung not been holding him.

Seeming to feel the weight of Saeran dragging them down, Saeyoung carefully lowered them both to the floor so they were kneeling, and Saeran didn’t have to worry about his shaking legs giving way underneath him.

“You have…meds will help…I know you hate…be okay…always here…”

Despite the fact Saeran was hearing nothing but fragmented sentences, he didn’t want Saeyoung to stop talking. He had a screwed up and suppressed ball of uncontrollable emotions inside him. Now they were all exploding at the same time, and they were all directed at his brother. _Rage, guilt, jealousy, love, disgust, hope, annoyance, care, betrayal, fear, joy, trust, shame, pity, envy, relief, confusion…_

He could go on for hours listing what he was feeling right now, but it wasn’t helping him calm down, so he let out a guttural sob instead, a cold sweat breaking out across his entire body. Suddenly, Saeyoung pulled away from the hug and Saeran screamed in protest, lashing out his arms blindly to grab for him – to kill him or to hug him, he didn’t know.

“Saeran… Saeran…” the voice was echoing around his mind, and all he could see through his tears was a blurred outline of his brother.

“Help me!” he screamed, reaching out for him, but he wasn’t within arms distance anymore, “Fucking help me!” He clutched his hair, trying to tear it from his head.

“Meds…water…open…”

Meds… medication… the meds… to make him feel better…

He hated the meds. He thought they took away a part of himself. Inhibited his instincts. Made him weak.

But right now, anything was better than _this_.

He opened his mouth, not caring when he felt drool sliding down his chin. He felt something on his tongue and then something cold against his lips. He pursed them as the glass was tilted and he swallowed heavily, the two pills going down with it.

It was partly a placebo effect – there was no way they’d work that quickly – but Saeran could feel himself calm down as he opened his mouth for the next one. He didn’t know what it would be. He just knew there were a lot of pills he needed to take, which were supposed to help him in various ways. Probably all bullshit.

It felt like an endless string of pills until finally he felt Saeyoung press the glass of water into his hands, meaning that was all of them.

Saeran could feel his breathing slow down slightly as he came down from his panic. Saeyoung moved closer to him again, and Saeran found his hands gripping his brother’s hoodie on his arms and pulling his closer. Saeyoung wrapped his arms around him again and made soothing ‘shhh’ noises.

Suddenly, Saeran felt something rest on his shoulders, making him almost jump out of his skin. He snapped himself round to look behind him and was greeted with blond hair and purple eyes looking at him in surprise.

“Oh, sorry!” Yoosung apologised frantically, picking up something that had fallen to the floor. It seemed to be his jacket. _Yoosung’s_ jacket. Saeran felt his eyebrows furrow together in confusion as Yoosung held it up, looking at him questioningly. “I thought you might be cold.”

Saeran looked up at Yoosung for a moment longer before looking back at Saeyoung, who smiled at him encouragingly. Had he not been feeling so weak and exhausted, Saeran probably would have hit him for being patronising. He slowly released his grip on Saeyoung’s hoodie and leaned back slightly to allow Yoosung to place the jacket on his shoulders. He held it there for a moment, and Saeran felt comforted at the feeling of his brother’s and Yoosung’s physical contact. He closed his eyes slowly.

Part of his brain was screaming at him to run away. Another part was screaming at him to hit them both, to hurt them, to make them suffer in the same way he had. Another part was screaming at him to start crying to make them feel guilty. Another part was screaming at him to just allow himself to feel cared for and safe for the first time in his life.

It was very noisy in his head, what with all the screams.

Saeyoung would probably say the right choice would be the one where he allowed himself to feel safe, and Saeran made an impulsive decision to trust it, trying to battle against the other thoughts.

He didn’t want to hurt either of them.

_Except you do._

No. He didn’t. Not really. That wasn’t him.

_You’re the one thinking about it, who else would it be?_

No. He didn’t want to hurt them.

_But you will._

Stop.

_You’ll hurt them._

No.

_They deserve to be hurt._

Saeran balled up his fists and pushed them against his eyes. He wasn’t sure when the weight of Yoosung’s hands had disappeared from his shoulders, but he could feel Saeyoung was still gripping hold of him.

“It’s so loud,” he whispered to Saeyoung, speaking quietly in case Yoosung was, in fact, still nearby.

“It’s okay,” Saeyoung whispered back, and Saeran felt his brother’s fingers wind their way around his wrists, pulling his fists from his eyes. Saeran blinked to clear his vision.

“I want to hurt you,” Saeran rasped out, his throat suddenly dry. He looked up into Saeyoung’s gold eyes and didn’t break eye contact. “It’s in my head all the time. I want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me,” Saeyoung told him. Saeran would have expected him to sound nervous or doubtful, but his voice was full of certainty.

“I…I’m trying to stop it.”

“I know, and that’s all you need,” Saeyoung reassured him. Saeran finally looked away, looking down at the floor.

“I want ice cream,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Huh?” Saeyoung hadn’t heard him.

“I… can I have ice cream?”

“Oh! Right, yes, okay,” Saeyoung’s grip on his wrists loosened and Saeran let his arms fall to his sides. “I don’t think we have any in the house, but I can go and get some for you. Are you okay to be with Yoosung? Or I could send Yoosung to get it-”

“It’s fine.” Saeran shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Saeyoung said, standing up and offering his hand. Saeran grasped it and pulled himself up, his exhausted legs still shaking. “He’s just here.”

Saeyoung led Saeran to the sofa where Yoosung was, and Saeran all but collapsed at the opposite end. Saeyoung took the glass and placed it on the table in front.

His emotions were all over the place. Why did he suddenly feel so weak? So trusting? Saeyoung had betrayed him, after all.

But Saeran was too tired to think about that.

He pulled on the jacket Yoosung had given him properly, and zipped it up before drawing his legs up to his chest and hugging his knees.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes max,” Saeyoung promised, and Saeran heard the same annoying noise of the door as it opened and closed.

He rest his chin on his knees, his eyes flicking over to look at Yoosung.

This could be interesting.


	2. only black days and sky grey

_**yoosung** _

It had been terrifying.

He’d looked so calm and collected at first. Pissed off, yes, but composed.

Then Yoosung had stood and headed cautiously over to the twins, and everything had gone to shit. All of a sudden, Saeran was crying and shaking and begging and screaming and Yoosung didn’t know what to do. Saeyoung had directed him to the medication which was kept locked away in his room, and Yoosung had felt so immensely guilty for potentially triggering this that he wanted to help in any way he could.

He tried to give them some privacy as Saeyoung sorted it out, but he couldn’t help but try. He hated watching anyone suffer, let alone someone Saeyoung cared about so deeply. Yoosung didn’t know Saeran, but he could tell instantly from seeing him that he wasn’t a bad person. Call it a sixth sense.

He was sitting seemingly as far from Yoosung as he possibly could with his knees hugged to his chest, looking so heartbreakingly innocent that Yoosung couldn’t see how this boy could possibly have attempted to destroy the entire RFA. Despite the tattoo he’d seen on his arm before he’d put on Yoosung’s jacket, the bleached-to-death white and pink hair, and the hard expression on his face, he still seemed… _soft._ Yoosung didn’t know how else to explain it.

Saeran Choi was not a bad person.

And Yoosung wanted him to know that he knew that.

But how could he start a conversation? He didn’t want to ask if he was okay, because it was obvious he wasn’t. Maybe… an apology? Yes, that was safe.

“I’m sorry.” Yoosung tried to speak calmly, but his voice cracked a little in the middle. He cursed himself.

Saeran lifted his head from his knees and turned to look at him, his eyebrows pulled into a frown. “Why?”

“B-because I… I feel like…” Yoosung stammered. “I feel as though I’m the one who caused…that.” He gestured vaguely with his hand to the spot Saeran had collapsed with Saeyoung. Yoosung was painfully aware of how definitely _not_ smooth he was being right now, but it was a conversation, right? That had to count for something.

“Hm.” Saeran let out a small puff of air before resting his chin on his knees again, staring straight ahead. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what caused it?” Yoosung asked. Saeran shook his head. Yoosung didn’t understand. “I think I understand.”

“No, you don’t,” Saeran said flatly. “It’s good that you don’t.”

“Oh,” Yoosung said. “Well, I’m sorry anyway."

“Ok,” Saeran said shortly. Yoosung wracked his brains for something else to talk about.

“Do you like videogames?” he asked, suddenly excited at the potential for a new friend to game with. _This_ was something he could talk about for hours.

“I’ve never played any.” Saeran’s answers were all blunt and straight to the point. It was like talking to a brick wall, but Yoosung felt determined to keep trying.

“Maybe you’d like them. There’s this one I play, it’s called LOLOL, and I play it quite a lot-”

“You play it all the time,” Saeran interrupted. Yoosung glanced at him, confused.

“H-how do you know that?” he asked, and Saeran looked at him pointedly. Yoosung felt himself shiver slightly under his piercing green eyes, which almost seemed to glow.

“I hacked the chatroom, remember?”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I forgot about that,” Yoosung confessed. “You don’t seem like the kind of person to do that.”

“Oh?” Saeran’s voice was showing emotion for the first time, but this was the kind of emotion that made Yoosung feel as though he’d done something wrong. Saeran seemed too calm, like a storm was brewing under his skin. He sat up straight, but his knees were still hugged to his chest. “What kind of person _does_ do it, then?”

“Well… I don’t know.” Yoosung was unbelievably flustered. How was he managing to mess this up so badly? “Bad people, I suppose. But you aren’t a bad person.”

Saeran snorted humourlessly, tilting his head to the side in what was probably supposed to be a threatening way. “Oh, but I am.”

“No!” Yoosung shook his head as Saeran glared at him. “And stop trying to scare me. It won’t work.”

Saeran blinked in surprise. “It should. You should be scared to be alone with me. Who knows what I could do?”

“You won’t do anything,” Yoosung said confidently.

“My mind is telling me to hurt you right now,” Saeran said menacingly, but Yoosung just let out a small laugh.

“But you won’t,” Yoosung insisted, and Saeran narrowed his eyes.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I can tell you’re a good person. I’m a good judge of character.”

“Oh, really?” Saeran raised his eyebrows, and opened his mouth, as though planning on saying something more, but closed it again and turned away again, resting his chin on his knees and picking at his fingernails. “Whatever.”

“I don’t care if you don’t believe me, but I know you’re a good person.”

“This is the first time we’ve met.”

“Yeah,” Yoosung shrugged. Now it was his turn to fidget with his hands. “I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have an opinion.”

Saeran exhaled and closed his eyes. “Why are you trying to talk to me?”

Yoosung was taken aback. He knew Saeran wasn’t being rude on purpose, but he couldn’t help feeling a little hurt. “Because I want to know you better.”

“Why the _fuck_ would anyone want to know me better?” Saeran snapped. His feet suddenly slammed on the floor and he brought his hands to his head, his fingers gripping his hair as he leaned forwards, body hunched. “I’m a fucking _mess._ ”

“I… everyone’s a little bit of a mess.” Yoosung was scared. No… scared wasn’t the right word. The only thing he was scared for was Saeran’s wellbeing. It was more like… worry. His hand fluttered slightly, itching to rest on Saeran’s back, but he wasn’t certain that would be a good idea.

“Not like me,” Saeran whispered before his voice rose into a scream. “No one’s as fucked up as _me._ ”

“Well… I still want to get to know you,” Yoosung confessed. Saeran looked up at Yoosung strangely for a moment, before slowly sitting up.

“Hm,” Saeran grunted. They sat in silence for a moment until the door opened behind them. Yoosung turned and welcomed Saeyoung with a shaky smile.

“Saeyoung!”

“Hey, guys,” Saeyoung greeted them both, heading the sofa and dumping himself in between the two of them, placing a plastic carrier bag on the table. “I can’t believe I actually went outside, you truly are special,” Saeyoung joked, obviously trying to lighten the mood. Yoosung glanced at Saeran who looked unimpressed by Saeyoung’s comment, but he noticed how he was eyeing up the bag. Saeyoung pulled out a tub of ice cream which he handed to Saeran. “Spoon!” he exclaimed, bouncing up and running to the kitchen before coming back and handing a large dessert spoon to Saeran. He opened the lid and took a scoop, angling his body away from Yoosung and Saeyoung, possibly for more privacy.

He was undeniably strange, but so what? Everyone’s a little strange and a little messed up. It didn’t make him less important just because he was more so than others. And… from what Yoosung gathered, it wasn’t his fault anyway. Saeyoung had come clean about their difficult childhood together. It was a little uncertain as to what happened after Saeran got to Mint Eye, but Yoosung knew it had to have been something bad. He wanted to talk to Saeran about it, but he knew he couldn’t just straight up ask – he barely even knew him. Yoosung may be tactless, but he wasn’t _that_ tactless.

Saeran ate a fair amount of the ice cream, sitting in silence as Saeyoung and Yoosung chatted for a while before deciding to start playing the racing game again. Out of the corner of his eye, Yoosung noticed that after a little while, Saeran stood and headed back into his room. As soon as the door shut, Saeyoung paused the game and put down his controller, sighing and burying his face in his hands, pushing his glasses out the way as he rubbed his eyes. Yoosung shuffled closer, resting a hand on his back, as he’d wanted to do for Saeran earlier.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and Saeyoung sighed again.

“It’s not me you should be worried about,” he pointed out, pausing for a moment to draw in a breath. “I…I just want Saeran to be okay.”

“Everyone does. He doesn’t deserve to feel this way,” Yoosung agreed.

“He seems… he seems to be okay with you. No one else has visited other than Minhee, and he’s really hostile when she’s around. But he didn’t seem to mind you being around.”

“Really?” Yoosung asked, surprised, “He seemed kind of… blunt while you were out.” Saeyoung looked up at Yoosung in shock. “Oh! No, I don’t mean I hate him or anything! I know he’s… having a hard time.”

“No… no that’s not…” Saeyoung was stumbling over his words. He cleared his throat before continuing. “He spoke to you?”

“Not much.” Yoosung sighed. “But, yeah. He talked a little. It was mainly me doing the talking, though. You know what I’m like.” he laughed a little awkwardly under Saeyoung’s odd stare.

“He never speaks to Minhee. He barely even speaks to me very often.”

“Well…uh… I guess I kind of forced it out of him. And he mostly spoke about how he’s a bad person and that I should be scared of him.”

Saeyoung studied Yoosung’s face for a moment, as though trying to figure out if he was lying. “You should come over more often.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Saeyoung said. “For whatever reason… I don’t know, maybe it’s because you’re unintimidating… he seems to almost _like_ you.”

“I…ok. I mean, I wouldn’t say he _likes_ me.” Yoosung felt strangely proud of the praise Saeyoung was giving him. “Maybe he was just being polite.”

“Saeran doesn’t do polite.” Saeyoung shook his head. “Either way, I’d like you to come over more anyway. It’ll be good for him to get used to being around more people.”

“You’re treating him like he’s an animal.” Yoosung shook his head disapprovingly. “And, besides, you don’t want me to come over to hang out with _you_?” He folded his arms.

“Oh! But of course I do, my ickle Yoosungie!” Saeyoung grinned and threw his arms around Yoosung, causing them both to almost fall on the floor.

“Aagh! Please get off me!”

“But I wuv my ickle Yoosungie,” Saeyoung made slurping, kissy noises right in Yoosung’s ear. Yoosung shoved his face away with his hand.

“Okay, whatever. Let’s play this game,” he grumbled, picking up the controller.

Yoosung never won against Saeyoung at these things anyway, but today he was being beaten by a much bigger margin than usual. He was distracted by the idea that perhaps Saeran liked him. Or at least was okay with him. Yoosung had always been told he was a likable person, but when it was possible he could get through to _Saeran Choi_ … that just seemed surreal.

Maybe he was overthinking it, but he hoped he could at least get close enough to Saeran for him to feel comfortable. Everyone needs a shoulder to cry on, if today hadn’t made that evident enough.

Yoosung had kept that shoulder clean for 20 years.


	3. clouds full of fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is taking me a while to get into because I'm trying to pace it right but I just wanna get to the good stuff god dammit

_**saeran** _

A significant amount of Saeran’s bitterness had given way to confusion. He had been sitting on the floor and leaning with his back against the door to his room, listening to Saeyoung talking about him as though he were an animal. He had felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise when Yoosung had made that comment about it.

Saeran found it incredibly stupid that Yoosung wanted to ‘get closer’ to him. Listening to the conversation, he felt like it might just be out of pity or obligation, but he wasn’t certain. He sounded… oddly genuine.

But, even if Yoosung’s concern _was_ genuine, Saeran wouldn’t allow it. Part of him wanted it; the security and trust that would undoubtedly come with friendship, at least in broad terms. But another part of him told him he didn’t deserve it anyway. And there was also the part of him that told him Yoosung would just run away and betray him, just like everyone else. He was terrified to get close to _anyone_ for an infinite number of reasons.

In spite of his conflicting feelings, he couldn’t deny that he appreciated Yoosung’s blunt honesty, which he wasn’t sure he realised he had. When Saeran had complained about being fucked up, Yoosung hadn’t attempted to convince him he wasn’t, like Saeyoung often did. Not even for a second. He’d just taken it in his stride and told him he wanted to know him anyway. Of course, he didn’t think Yoosung knew he was a murderer. That would scare him away, Saeran had no doubt.

Of all people to try and get close to him, it had to be the fucking baby of the group, didn’t it? Saeran hit his head against the back of the door as he listened to Yoosung and Saeyoung insulting each other as they played that stupid game. He felt a strange longing inside him to go out and join them, but he hadn’t been able to handle it all any longer. The awkward tension. The human interaction.

He was feeling considerably calmer after his medication, though, he had to admit. He still hated it. He wanted the medicine given to him by the Savior – the one which had made him delirious and stopped him from thinking too much about _feelings_. But this was better than nothing, because it meant he didn’t have to be a weak, pathetic mess in front of the people he wanted to be terrified of him.

Saeran remained sitting with his back against his closed door for what must have been at least a few hours. Eventually, he heard the game console shut off and Yoosung leave. The house was silent for a few peaceful moments before the door opened again and he heard the unmistakable voice of Minhee Chung. He supressed a groan. This would probably mean more human interaction, and Saeran was already pretty exhausted for the day. He decided to stay by his door, partly to eavesdrop and partly to stop them from being able to open it. It wasn’t comfortable on the floor, but since when did he care about comfort?

“Yoosung was over earlier,” he head Saeyoung say, as there was a rustling noise and the sound of footsteps. In Saeran’s head, they had sat on the sofa.

“That’s nice. You guys barely hang out anymore.”

“Yeah, it was good.” Saeyoung sounded distant, and Saeran could practically see him running his hand through his hair. “Saeran came out of his room.”

There it was.

“He did?” she asked, sounding mildly surprised. She’d only seen him out of his room a handful of times, and most of those were just him heading to and from the bathroom or kitchen. “What happened?”

“I think we were being too loud so he came out to tell us to shut up, but then he kind of… broke down.” There was a moment of silence. “He was begging for me to help him but all I could do was sit there hugging him. I felt so fucking useless.”

“Did it help him?”

“It seemed to. He asked for ice cream afterwards so I ran to the store and got some for him. When Saeran went back in his room, Yoosung told me… he spoke to him.”

“Really?” Now Minhee sounded intrigued. Saeran rolled his eyes. It wasn’t as though he was a fucking child who couldn’t string a sentence together.

“Yeah, he said it was mostly insults but… it’s progress, right?”

“It sounds like it,” Minhee said reassuringly, “But it’s only been two or three months. You shouldn’t push him too much.”

“I’m not, it’s just that he seemed so… comfortable around Yoosung. Well, not quite comfortable, but he didn’t seem to hate him as much as he hates-” Saeran heard his brother break of his sentence abruptly.

“As much as he hates me. It’s okay, you can say it,” Minhee told him. “And that’s a good thing, right? It’ll be good if he can get used to being around people.”

Saeran groaned and slammed his head back against the door, before yelling. “I can fucking hear you.”

There was a deafening silence from the other room and Saeran sighed, standing up and swinging the door open, smirking at the sight of their shocked faces.

“I’m not a fucking animal. Even _Yoosung_ seemed to realise that,” he spat with as much venom as he could muster.

“Saeran, we didn’t mean-” Minhee began, but he cut her off.

“Why are _you_ the ones to decide what’s good for me? Why are _you_ the ones who tell me what to do? Who keep me locked up inside? I want to go outside. Maybe I’ll run away, maybe I won’t, who fucking knows? Who fucking cares?” Saeran was getting hysterical now, throwing his arms around wildly. “It’d be better for both of you if I just left, anyway!”

His words rang through the air for a moment as the couple stared at him. He wanted to punch those expressions right off their stupid faces. They looked so… _pitying_. They shouldn’t be pitying him, they should be scared of him. Why weren’t they scared of him?

Saeyoung stood up and took a few steps over towards Saeran.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Saeyoung said simply.

“Why?” Saeran shot back. “You left me. Why shouldn’t I leave you?”

Saeyoung sucked in a breath. That had stung him. Good. “I know you want to leave, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you did.”

“Why should I care how _you_ feel?” Saeran was trying desperately to hurt Saeyoung with his words as much as he possibly could. He wanted him to suffer.

“You shouldn’t. But _I_ care how _you_ feel, and I want to help fix the mistakes I made.”

“You can’t ‘fix’ me.” Saeran used air quotations around the word ‘fix’ before folding his arms across his chest. “Some things can’t be fixed.”

Saeyoung shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, “I didn’t… I didn’t mean fix. You’re not broken. I just want to help.”

“You can help me by letting me die.” At this, Saeyoung grabbed hold of Saeran’s shoulders, shaking him a little, with such rage in his eyes that it threw Saeran off for a second. His own arms dropped to his sides and he stared at his brother in shock.

“No, dammit, I won’t let you die,” Saeyoung almost yelled. “If you die, I’m dying too. I’d rather let you do _anything_ else, as long as you don’t die.”

“You’d let me go back to Mint Eye?” Saeran shot at him, recovering himself from the surprise, but the bite in his voice wasn’t quite there anymore. Saeyoung suddenly stopped moving, dropping his hands to his sides and looking at Saeran sadly.

“Mint Eye’s gone.”

“No it’s not. It’ll never be gone. There are still those who are loyal, like me.”

“They tortured you, Saeran.”

“Not as badly as you did.”

With that, Saeran spun on his heel and headed back into his room, slamming the door. He could hear Saeyoung sniffing on the other side of the door, and Minhee making soothing noises to calm him.

Saeran hoped he was crying.


	4. storms full of sorrow that won't disappear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to update this as frequently as possible before I lose my motivation (4 times in one day, yes I'm _that_ worried lmao)

_**saeran** _

A few days passed without anything else of interest happening. Saeyoung, and occasionally Minhee, still came into Saeran’s room to try talking to him every so often, but he just lay with his face buried into his pillow, refusing to speak. He could feel his determination to hurt his brother getting weaker by the day, and he _almost_ stopped taking his meds to stop that happening. But he didn’t want to feel how he had on that day.

These stupid fucking pills were making him soft. He didn’t want to be soft. He wanted to be angry and terrifying and uncontrollable, but instead he just felt tired. Occasionally the guilt crept in, but he pushed it deep down inside him. If he let the guilt in, even a little, he knew it would consume him.

One day he heard the front door opening, the sound, as always, making him grit his teeth in annoyance, although his ears perked up in interest at who the visitor could be. He pushed himself up with his elbows so his face wasn’t pressed into his pillow to hear who it was. He had thought Minhee was already here.

He could hear mumbled voices, and was surprised when his bedroom door opened. He turned his head to see Saeyoung.

“Yoosung’s here,” Saeyoung told him. Saeran scowled. If Saeyoung thought he was going to become _friends_ with Yoosung, then he was sorely mistaken.

“Why do I care?”

Yoosung’s blond head poked around Saeyoung, eyes wide, a small awkward smile on his lips. “I actually came to get my jacket.”

It took Saeran a moment to realise what Yoosung was talking about. Oh. The jacket he’d lent him before.

“Right.” Saeran pushed himself off the bed and picked up the jacket from the floor. Saeyoung stepped back so Yoosung could head over to Saeran, but Saeran threw the jacket at Yoosung when he was about halfway across the room. It landed on his head, and Saeran barked out a harsh laugh as he pulled it off.

“Oh… uh, thanks,” Yoosung said, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. “Anyway, that’s not the only reason I came here.”

“Let me guess.” Saeran pretended to think for a moment. He was well aware his voice was slightly hysterical – he hadn’t spoken in days – but he didn’t care. “You’re here to help me get used to being around people. You’re here to _fix_ me. You’re here to be my _friend_. Isn’t this nice? Isn’t it just so _warm_ and _fuzzy_ in here right now?”

Yoosung looked strangely unaffected by his sarcasm, simply raising an eyebrow. “I guess you could put it like that. Now, come on, let’s play video games.”

“I don’t want to play your stupid video games,” Saeran spat.

“Well, I want you to.” Yoosung boldly headed over to Saeran, probably in an attempt to intimidate him. It didn’t work. He was too baby-faced and wide-eyed to intimidate Saeran, as well as being about half an inch shorter than him.

“Why do you get to decide what I do?” Saeran narrowed his eyes dangerously. Yoosung furrowed his eyebrows.

“I don’t. But I’d _like_ you to.” His words were forceful, but he looked too much like a puppy for Saeran to take seriously. He let out another bitter laugh.

“Oh, you’d _like_ me to, would you?” Saeran grabbed hold of Yoosung’s wrist tightly, dragging him closer until their faces were inches apart. Yoosung still didn’t look scared, but Saeran could feel his breath quickening. He growled menacingly. “Perhaps you’d also like me to fuck you like the slut you are.”

Yoosung’s stare was unwavering. Unflinching. The only thing giving him away was the slight flush of his cheeks. Embarrassment? Fear? Arousal? Saeran didn’t really care.

“Saeran!” He heard Saeyoung yell from the door, and Saeran’s eyes flicked up to glance at his brother rushing over to them. He dropped Yoosung’s wrist as Saeyoung pulled him back out of his brother’s reach. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“That’s why I said it.” Saeran folded his arms across his chest.

“Just… please just come out into the other room,” Saeyoung begged exasperatedly.

“No.”

“Come on, Saeyoung. It’s fine.” Yoosung tugged at his sleeve and they headed out the room, Saeyoung looking dejected, closing the door gently behind them.

It was pretty fun to have someone new to taunt, Saeran had to admit that. Yoosung seemed surprisingly difficult to break.

He was almost impossibly positive, and as much as Saeran hated to admit it, he found it strangely endearing. It was as though Yoosung was some kind of magnet trying to draw Saeran in, but he resisted the pull for an endless list of reasons. Yoosung could put up with him now because he didn’t know him, but as soon as Saeran even considered allowing himself to get close to him, Yoosung would see the real him. It would potentially hurt Saeran, and Saeran didn’t want that kind of emotional pain. He was done with it.

Saeran looked over at his closed door, hearing the games console starting up again, covering over the muffled voices in the other room. Part of him wanted to go and annoy them more. He was feeling strangely playful today, in a sadistic kind of way.

He waited a few moments before quietly opening his door and sliding out his room. As far as he could tell, neither Saeyoung nor Yoosung had noticed him yet. He silently walked over so he was standing behind them as they sat on the sofa, and leant forwards slightly so he was right up close to their ears.

“BANG!”

He broke into hysterical laughter as the two boys jumped out their skin at his outburst, Saeyoung yelping and Yoosung letting out a full on scream, his controller flying across the room. The look of terror on their faces was priceless. “Did I scare you?” he asked in a sing-song voice.

“Oh my God,” Saeyoung said, breathing heavily. “Why?”

Saeran shrugged. “Bored. I’m bored. Let me go outside.”

Saeyoung turned around to study him, a serious look in his eyes. Saeran raised an eyebrow.

“No,” Saeyoung told him firmly.

Saeran rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I don’t care.” He stood up straight and headed to the kitchen, his mood suddenly crashing into feeling pissed off rather than playful. He pulled open the freezer, but after a moment of searching, it became clear there wasn’t any ice cream. He sighed and slammed it shut, opening the cupboard. He wanted something sweet.

“Saeran?” he heard a voice behind him and spun around to see Yoosung standing nervously in the doorway.

“What?” Saeran asked, boredly.

“I… I was just thinking. You said you wanted to go outside, right?”

This piqued his interests. “Yes.”

“Well, I can’t exactly force Saeyoung to let you go outside, but… I can try and help you feel like you’re outside.” Saeran wondered if Yoosung was aware he wasn’t making sense.

“How?”

“Do you have a phone?”

“I… yes?” Saeran said questioningly, thinking about his phone which had been out of charge for weeks, lying on his bedroom floor somewhere.

“Ok, good.” Yoosung breathed a sigh of relief, smiling a little. “Could I have your number?”

“Why?”

“I can send you pictures, if you want.” Yoosung looked nervously at his feet, shuffling a little where he stood. “Of the sky. I know you like the sky.”

“How do you know that?” Saeran snapped, and Yoosung looked up at him in surprise.

“Oh… uh…”

“Oh, right. Saeyoung told you. Of course.”

“So… is it okay?” Yoosung asked cautiously. “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

Saeran should have said no. He should have pushed Yoosung away and told him he didn’t care about the stupid fucking sky. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He had been trapped inside this bunker for too long now, and he hadn’t seen the sky in what felt like years. Even if he could only see it in pixels on a shitty phone screen, it was something. It was better than just searching up pictures online, because this would be especially for him. It would be near enough live. He would be able to see for himself what the weather was like at that exact moment. Saeran wanted to see the clouds change shape and the sky change colour and the sun sink down below the horizon. He wanted it so badly he could feel his chest constricting.

“Could you send videos too?” he whispered, dropping his eyes to the floor.

“Of course!” Yoosung confirmed happily. Saeran blinked to get rid of the stupid tears which had suddenly formed in his eyes. Saeran watched as Yoosung pulled out his yellow flip-phone and tapped a few buttons before handing it to Saeran. He took it slowly from Yoosung, not making eye contact, and typed his name and number, saving it to contacts before handing it back. “How often would you like me to send them?”

“I don’t mind,” Saeran said quietly. “Whenever you want.”

Yoosung quickly typed something else into his phone before pocketing it. “I just text you, so now you’ll have my number too.”

Saeran hummed in response.

“Well… I guess I’ll go back to the game,” Yoosung said after a moment of silence. He turned and began heading towards the door.

“Yoosung?” Saeran called before he could stop himself. Yoosung turned and smiled at him.

“Yes, Saeran?”

Saeran gulped. “Thank you.”

Saeran swore Yoosung’s smile was so wide should have split his cheeks. “It’s no problem. You can text me anytime you want to.”

Yoosung left the kitchen, pulling the door shut behind him and Saeran leaned against the counter, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

What was he _doing?_


	5. typhoons and monsoons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the format's a little different, but I think I like it!  
> also Yoosung's flip phone is my aesthetic and it's making me miss the one I had like 8 years ago T_T

_**yoosung** _

Yoosung’s bedroom was dark, with nothing but the glowing monitor to keep it from being completely pitch black.

He was distracted, even from LOLOL. He couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened earlier that. He felt proud of himself, possibly _too_ proud, for getting through to Saeran, even if just in a small way. He now had his number, which had to mean something.

Baby steps.

Offering to send him photos had been an impulse. He vaguely remembered Saeyoung telling him a few weeks ago over the phone that he wanted to let Saeran go outside to see the sky he loved so much, but he was too scared he might run away. For some reason, that small piece of information had stuck with him. Like when he found out Saeran liked ice cream. He was gradually finding out more about the personality underneath the trauma he had suffered, and he was surprised at how innocent and peaceful all his interests were. Of course, he didn’t know much yet, but he felt like if he just kept trying, he would reach the point where he would know exactly how to cheer him up when he most needed it.

Yoosung shook his head to rattle his thoughts, trying to focus on the game. He was getting way ahead of himself, anyway. Chances are this was as far as Saeran would allow this to go. Of course, Yoosung was determined to push further, but he didn’t want to push too far too quickly.

After losing one of his raids for the fifth time in a row and getting yelled at by some sore loser in his guild who went by the username Rythm_Lexxy (he’d even spelt rhythm wrong – what an idiot), he sighed and pulled off his headset, leaning back precariously in his chair. He glanced at his phone sitting on the side and flipped it open. Still no reply from Saeran confirming it was the right number. He pulled up the text he’d sent earlier.

 

            **(16:31)** Hey, it’s Yoosung~ Shoot me a text when you get this!

 

Maybe he should send another one? He typed out a message and sent it before he could overthink it too much.

 

            **(21:09)** Text me back to let me know if I have the right number!^^

 

Was he being too forward? Too overly-positive? He wasn’t sure. Saeran had told him he had a phone, but Saeyoung had said to Yoosung he never used it anymore. Yoosung hummed, flicking his phone shut and tapping it against his chin thoughtfully. In all honesty, he wasn’t entirely sure how to advance this any further. He supposed that as soon as he started sending the pictures and videos, perhaps they would start growing closer. He hoped so.

Suddenly, he felt his phone buzz against his chin and flipped it open faster than he had thought possible.

 

            **(21:10)** Yeah, it’s me.

 

Yoosung felt a grin stretch across his face at the response. Now to try for a conversation. Yoosung had snapped a quick picture of the sky as he’d been walking to the bus stop on his way home. It had been a gentle pink colour, and the clouds were thin and reminded him of cotton candy.

 

            **(21:10)** Hey! Are you ready for the first photo?

 

He decided to wait for a response first, milking the conversation while he could. This time he had to wait a little longer for a reply, his leg bouncing up and down excitedly.

 

            **(21:15)** Yeah.

 

Yoosung attached the image and sent it to Saeran with the caption “Reminds me of cotton candy!” and waited for a response. He hoped he wasn’t being too overbearing, but honestly, Yoosung liked Saeran. Despite his harshness, he could tell there was something so much softer under the surface. Especially when he’d pulled him close and threatened him. In that moment, he could see the threat didn’t quite reach him deep down, and his eyes looked almost dead which took all the bite away from the words. Again, he was possibly overanalysing, but Yoosung liked to think he was a good judge of character.

Or maybe he was just too trusting.

He got a response and checked it eagerly.

 

            **(21:17)** I like cotton candy.

 

A conversation! Another thing Saeran liked! Yoosung almost fist-pumped the air with delight as he read the message again, adding to his mental list titled ‘Things Saeran Likes’ which currently consisted of: the sky, ice cream and cotton candy.

 

            **(21:17)** Me too! Maybe we should get some sometime?

 

He didn’t have to wait too long for the next message. This time he got two in a row.

 

            **(21:18)** I can’t leave the house.

            **(21:18)** That’s the reason you have my number in the first place.

 

Oh, right. Shoot. _Tactless, Yoosung, tactless._ Perhaps he could still save this.

 

            **(21:19)** Well then I’ll bring you some next time I visit^^

 

Had he saved the conversation? Who knew? His phone buzzed within seconds, and he looked at it excitedly, but this was a text from Saeyoung instead.

 

            **(21:19)** dude are you texting saeran??

 

Yoosung frowned and tapped out his response.

 

            **(21:20)** Yeah…why?

 

Maybe it was just that Saeyoung hadn’t seen Saeran on his phone before. It was a good thing that Yoosung was encouraging it, right? His phone buzzed again four times in a row. More texts from Saeyoung.

 

            **(21:20)** ok listen

 **(21:20)** i wouldn’t say it’s exactly a _smile_

 **(21:21)** but he definitely looks less pissed off than usual

            **(21:21)** tell me ur secrets omg

 

Yoosung grinned at the text, and received a new message from Saeran as he was typing out his reply for Saeyoung.

 

            **(21:21)** Maybe I’m less of a jerk than you are.

 

He closed his conversation with Saeyoung and opened Saeran’s to see his response.

 

            **(21:21)** I would like that.

 

Yoosung’s brain was working so fast that he felt as though his fingers couldn’t keep up.

 

            **(21:21)** Awesome! I’ll have to come over sometime soon!

 

Another four texts from Saeyoung came through.

 

            **(21:22)** wow rude T_T

            **(21:22)** when am i ever anything but nice to u???

            **(21:22)** anyway i have something else to tell u

            **(21:23)** but go to the chatroom because everyone else needs to know too

 

Yoosung frowned. What could this possibly be about? He opened his app for the RFA messenger, and saw Minhee and Zen were already in the chat.

 

 _Yoosung_ **_★_ ** _has entered the chatroom._

**Minhee:** Hey Yoosung~

 **Yoosung** **★** **:** Hey Minhee!

 **Yoosung** **★** **:** And Zen!

 **Yoosung** **★** **:** So, what’s going on? Saeyoung told me to come to the chat.

 

_707 has entered the chatroom._

**707:** hi!!!!!!!

 **707:** oh

 **707:** wait a second

 

_707 has left the chatroom._

**ZEN:** What was that all about…?

 **Minhee:** idk??

 

_Jaehee Kang has entered the chatroom._

**Minhee:** Jaehee! Hi!

 **Jaehee Kang:** Minhee, it’s good to see you.

 

_Jumin Han has entered the chatroom._

**ZEN:** Ugh, here’s Mr Trust Fund.

 

_Saeyoung has entered the chatroom._

**Saeyoung:** much better!

 **Minhee:** Ooh, name change! I like it!

 **Saeyoung:** thx thx

 **Saeyoung:** but where’s Saeran?

 **Jumin Han:** I didn’t realise he had an account.

 

_Unknown has entered the chatroom._

**Saeyoung:** oh yikes you should change your username

 **Unknown:** It’s fine like this.

 **Yoosung** **★** **:** Hi Saeran!

 **Unknown:** …hi.

 **Jaehee Kang:** Why did you call us all here, Saeyoung?

 **Saeyoung:** right!! it was actually Minhee’s idea so maybe she could explain…

 **Minhee:** There’s not exactly anything to ‘explain’.

 **Minhee:** It’s just that I was considering that we could maybe host another RFA party soon?

 **Minhee:** Actually, it was mainly Jumin I wanted to check with.

 **Jumin Han:** Me? Why?

 **Minhee:** Because it’ll be the first party we’ve held since…

 **Jumin Han:** Oh.

 **Minhee:** I know he was your close friend. I was wondering whether it would bother you to carry on without him.

 **Jumin Han:** I’m not bothered.

 

_Unknown has left the chatroom._

**ZEN:** What…?

 **Yoosung** **★** **:** Is he okay?

 **Saeyoung:** I don’t know.

 

_Saeyoung has left the chatroom._

**ZEN:** Uhm…

 **Jumin Han:** Anyways, I am not opposed to the idea.

 **Minhee:** As long as you’re sure. How about everyone else?

 **Jaehee Kang:** I think it’s a good idea.

 **Yoosung** **★** **:** Yeah, me too.

 **Yoosung** **★** **:** I have to go. Talk to you guys later.

 

 _Yoosung_ **_★_ ** _has left the chatroom._

Yoosung leaned forwards on his chair suddenly, slamming his feet against the floor. He considered calling Saeran, but that probably would be too intrusive, so he pulled up Saeyoung’s contact instead. He hesitated for a moment, considering the possibility that Saeyoung might be talking to Saeran right now. He didn’t want to interrupt if that were the case, but he was too worried not to. He held his breath and pressed the call button. If Saeyoung couldn’t talk, he would probably just ignore it anyway.

He picked up on the third ring.

“Yoosung?”

“Saeyoung! Is Saeran alright?”

“Huh?” Saeyoung sounded distracted. “Oh… right, yeah. He’s okay.”

“Why did he leave the chatroom?”

“I… you know what he’s like,” Saeyoung said vaguely. Yoosung was getting a little frustrated. He could tell something was up, but he couldn’t figure out what.

“Tell me, Saeyoung. Please, I want to help.”

“You can’t,” Saeyoung replied immediately. “This is something… personal. Saeran wouldn’t want me telling anyone. Please don’t take it the wrong way, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for him in such a short space of time, but this one’s for me to handle, okay?”

Yoosung let out a long breath, gripping his hair in his free hand as his elbows rest on the desk in front of him.

“Okay,” Yoosung agreed, closing his eyes. “But let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

“I will. Thank you. I have to go, talk later?”

“Yeah, goodbye.”

Yoosung listened as Saeyoung hung up, and lowered the phone from his ear

Maybe Saeran was just anxious about the party. It was understandable, considering the only people he’d seen in the past few months had been him, Saeyoung and Minhee. Yoosung doubted Saeran would go to the party at all, but it still didn’t explain why he left the chatroom so suddenly without at least making a harsh comment first. It left a strange taste in Yoosung’s mouth, telling him there was more to it than just social anxiety.

Again, he might be overthinking. But it didn’t feel like that were the case.

He gamed a little more, but was even less focused than he had been before, so he finally decided to send Saeran a text, checking how he was.

 

                **(22:59)** Hey, I just thought I’d text you to see if you’re okay.

 

He sent it before he had a chance to think it through. That was stupid. Of course Saeran wasn’t okay. Why had he sent that? Yoosung started panicking a little, before lunging across his room to reach the window. He opened it and felt the cold, night air hit his face, snapping a hasty picture of the sky. It was dark, and the photo was blurry. It was nothing more than a deep purple sort of colour with a fuzzy, white crescent which was massively off-centre.

 

                **(23:01)** [Photo attachment]

                **(23:01)** No clouds tonight!

 

Yoosung locked his phone and placed it on his desk, staring at it intensely, as though that would make Saeran text back faster. After a few agonising minutes, his phone buzzed on the wooden desk and Yoosung grabbed it so quickly he almost threw it across the room. It was Saeran, and as he opened the text, another one popped up.

 

                **(23:04)** I like clouds.

                **(23:04)** And that’s a shitty photo.

 

Yoosung felt a smile stretch across his face. He knew Saeran probably wasn’t trying to be funny, but the last text message tickled Yoosung, making him giggle a little as he leaned back on his chair, feeling slightly more relaxed.

Things Saeran Likes: the sky, ice cream, cotton candy, clouds.

Was he getting somewhere? He sure hoped so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so that username thing may or may not have been a sly dig at my brother ¬_¬


	6. there's no good times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about the pacing of this chapter, but I hope it still feels believable.

**_saeran_ **

Yoosung had been texting Saeran every day throughout the week, and Saeran had been replying almost as often. It was amazing how pushy Yoosung was and how determined he was to have a conversation with him, and Saeran still didn’t fully understand why.

His replies were often short and blunt, but that didn’t seem to deter Yoosung in the slightest. Every time Saeran thought the conversation had died for good, Yoosung sent another photo of the sky. It had only been six days, but Saeran had already received twenty-eight photos. And he would be lying if he said he didn’t stare at them all the time.

Every time his phone buzzed with a notification (which could only be from Yoosung, because no one else texted him) his heart skipped a little at the thought of another photo. Receiving them was like a drug to him, and he couldn’t get enough no matter how much he stared at each one. He wanted to ask Yoosung to send more, but he didn’t want to appear too…interested.

He hadn’t asked him what had happened that day in the chatroom, which Saeran was kind of grateful for. Although he convinced himself he felt indifferent towards Yoosung, he did feel bad if he flat out ignored his messages. He always replied, even if just one word. It was like a habit, he guessed.

He couldn’t exactly explain to Yoosung that Minhee bringing up V had sent him into a major, uncontrollable flashback. He had lashed out. He had hurt Saeyoung, like he always knew he would eventually. There were still fading pink lines on his face from where Saeran’s nails had scraped down his skin, but he pretended not to care and Minhee pretended not to notice.

He had remembered the feeling of the gun in his hand, the recoil as the bullet fired, the satisfaction and manic ecstasy coursing through his veins as he watched the blood spread on the photographer’s shirt and he fell to the ground, the immediate panic as it became evident that what he had done was _not_ what the Savior had wanted him to do… all these overwhelming emotions at once, along with the newfound guilt he felt for it all, which he had been repressing up until now.

He still hated V, and he doubted that would ever change. But he had _killed_ someone. He had intentionally shot him dead, and that was something Saeran was going to have to live with forever.

He had almost ignored Yoosung’s message when he had text him that night. He had only just managed to come down from his flashback, but then his phone buzzed again and he opened his messages to see the blurriest, shittiest photo of the sky he’d ever seen in his life.

And he loved it.

He would never admit he liked texting Yoosung. It gave him some form of structure to his day that he hadn’t had before, and he could look forward to the photos Yoosung sent.

Sometimes he found himself screaming as he threw his phone across the room, hoping it would shatter, but it never did. He _couldn’t_ allow himself to be happy about these conversations. This could end one of two ways – he could hurt Yoosung, or Yoosung could betray him. He didn’t want to get hurt and, although his meds didn’t entirely stop the constant screams in his head, it muffled them enough for him to realise that most of the time he _didn’t_ want to hurt people.

_Yes you do._

No. He didn’t.

_You hurt Saeyoung._

That wasn’t his fault.

_You hurt him._

He didn’t mean to.

_He deserves to be hurt._

No. Stop. Saeran pushed the voices down, screwing his eyes shut and pulling at his hair. He heard his phone buzz next to his ear on the pillow, and he picked it up, hoping to see another photo of the sky.

 

 **(20:35)** [Photo attachment]

 

He clicked the photo and felt his breath leave his lungs in a slow exhale as he calmed down, looking at a photo of a cloud which Saeran thought looked like a cat. Another text came through.

 

                **(20:36)** It looks like a cat!

 

Saeran felt his lips tug at the corners, but he refused to let himself smile. Instead he typed a response.

 

                **(20:36)** That’s what I thought, too.

 

Saeran pulled the picture up so it was full size.

As much as he loved getting these photos, and as much as they made him feel calm and content, they created a strange hole inside him. They filled him with an aching emptiness, reminding him that he couldn’t go outside himself to see cat shaped clouds and sunsets and pink skies. He longed to go out and see it for himself, which is why Yoosung’s photos probably wouldn’t be enough for much longer.

His phone buzzed again, and he saved the picture to his camera roll before closing it to read the message.

 

                **(20:37)** Aah, I knew it! Do you like cats?

 

Saeran frowned a little at the question. He didn’t exactly _dislike_ cats. He never really thought about them very much.

 

                **(20:38)** I guess.

 

Yoosung seemed to ask him about himself a lot. It made him a little uncomfortable at times, but he always seemed to know when he had crossed the line and backed off. It was strange. Yoosung was strange.

He still didn’t know what to think of him.

Saeran’s phone buzzed again and he opened the message.

 

                **(20:38)** Hmm, so I’m guessing you don’t like them as much as Saeyoung does?

 

Saeran sighed in frustration and felt his grip tighten on his phone. He hated being compared to his brother.

               

                **(20:39)** No.

 

He locked his phone and threw it on the floor, throwing his arm over his face and clenching his fists.

His brain had been such a strange place lately, and his thoughts were bouncing away from him before he could catch them. Some days he felt mostly okay. Some days he felt murderous, like he would hurt anyone who came close. Some days he felt so heart-wrenchingly sad that he had trouble breathing, like there was a weight on his chest. Some days he flitted between the three, with a few more emotions thrown in for fun.

He pressed his fists against his eyes, and heard his phone buzz from the floor. He wouldn’t answer that one. He just needed to… he needed to be by himself suddenly. This was one of his sad days.

He’d used to feel angry pretty much all the time, but now he had all these other feelings bombarding him, and he didn’t know how to handle them. It was overwhelming and exhausting.

It was because of those stupid fucking meds. They were supressing his anger and giving way to all these other things. He was half-considering stopping taking them, but Saeyoung kept an extra close eye on him every morning as he took them since his ‘episode’ a week or so ago. Saeran could still refuse – it wasn’t like Saeyoung could force them down his throat – but he was too scared. It was a circle. Stopping taking them would stop him being scared, but he was too scared to stop. Fuck.

He didn’t feel as though he was his own person anymore. He didn’t know what his ‘real’ personality was. Perhaps he was just an angry, murderous guy, and the meds were suppressing the real him. Or perhaps there really _was_ something good buried deep under his skin that they were digging towards.

Saeran snorted. Anything ‘good’ about him had shrivelled up and died long ago. He wasn’t broken so much as rotten to the core, and there was no undoing that. No way to ‘fix’ him like everyone seemed to want to. He pulled his fists from his eyes and clutched them to his chest.

There was no point. Not anymore. There was no point even trying to survive. If he didn’t have the means to directly kill himself, he could just starve. He felt warm tears start rolling down each side of his face, soaking into his hair and pillow where they landed. The lump in his throat couldn’t be gulped down, and so he just lay there as his face stung and his throat ached and his body gave up movement.

He closed his eyes. Why was he so sad?

Oh, right. Because he deserved to be.

He had hurt and ruined so many people, and even killed one. It wasn’t even the case of wanting to die to make Saeyoung break anymore. It was that he didn’t deserve to be alive in the first place.

He drifted around in the blackness of his mind, not bothering to attempt to avoid anything in it anymore. Whether or not God had intended it from the start of his life, he would never know, but this was who he was now. Saeran didn’t know if he believed in God. The Savior had been his God, but now he was godless and had nothing to cling to.

It didn’t matter if there was anything ‘good’ deep inside, because even if there were, it would be so outweighed by the bad that it wasn’t even worth considering. Good could never win against so much darkness. Saeran wasn’t even sure he knew what being ‘good’ meant anymore.

He could see something slowly taking shape in the blackness. It looked like Saeyoung, but he was younger. He looked exactly as Saeran remembered him when they were children, with his too-large wire-framed glasses and his messy red hair and his innocent expression, so full of wonder.

There was a shape behind him. It looked like a ghost, with its long flowing dress and tendrils of hair snaking around its body. Its shocking green eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, and the face grinned, bearing razor-sharp teeth.

Saeran wanted to call out. He wanted to warn Saeyoung of the monster that was behind him, but his voice died in his throat every time he tried to scream. He tried running towards him and reaching out, panicking and hyperventilating as the shape got closer.

It was a gruesome hybrid of the Savior and his mother. It was holding a needle in one hand and a knife in the other. Saeran watched in horror as it plunged the needle into his twin’s arm, letting out a silent scream as Saeyoung’s deafening one filled his ears. Saeran clutched his head, pulling out his hair and watching the red strands swirl around him, floating into his mouth and suffocating him as he tried to scream for it to stop. Saeyoung was still screaming, and the hybrid pressed the knife to his throat and sliced it cleanly open. Saeyoung’s screams stopped, leaving nothing but deafening silence, and Saeran tried to scream and reach out for his brother, as his limp body fell to the floor, his head disconnecting itself from its body and rolling towards him, before stopping face up with a dead expression in the eyes.

_Everything I do is what you want deep in your heart._

It was her voice. The Savior. It made his gag reflex come into action, and he choked and tried to vomit, but nothing came out.

_No… no it’s not._

Saeran was begging, but his voice still wasn’t coming out properly. The hybrid was gliding over to him now, a sadistic smile on its face, when suddenly, Saeran felt himself get thrown to the side by an immense force he couldn’t stand up against.

 _Stay away from him!_ it yelled, and Saeran saw as the hybrid’s eyes narrowed and it raised the bloody knife to the other shape. Who…?

_Yoosung._

_No. Not Yoosung._

He had barely spoken to Yoosung. Why was he getting dragged into this? He had done nothing wrong. He tried to scream at Yoosung to run, but his voice still wasn’t coming out of his throat. His limbs weighed him to the ground. He couldn’t move, not even to blink, and watched in horror as the hybrid snarled and raised the knife, bringing it down hard on Yoosung’s head and slicing him in two with a jagged line down his entire body.

Saeran couldn’t attempt to scream anymore, instead sobbing silently. He couldn’t breathe as he watched the blood spurt out of the two halves of Yoosung, both falling to the ground and sinking into the darkness. Two people had died. That was three people in total whose deaths Saeran was responsible for. He felt the ghosts of his limbs moving as he grasped hold of his throat, trying to cut off his air supply to stop the pain.

_He couldn’t breathe._

All of a sudden his eyes flew open, and Saeran bolted upright in his bed, a cold sweat covering his entire body, his fingernails digging into his throat as he tried to suppress his screams. His breaths were shallow, and he sobbed hoarsely as he finally let go of his neck, allowing the harsh, cold air to stab into his raw throat.

Saeran wildly lunged over to the side of his bed and grabbed his phone, tears in his eyes as he frantically tapped the screen and held it to his ear. His breathing still wasn’t getting any easier.

“Hello?” came a sleepy voice from the other end of the line, and Saeran held his breath for a moment to stop himself from panting, but his entire body was trembling which forced whimpers from his lips. Yoosung’s voice became worried. “Saeran? What is it?”

Saeran grabbed hold of his hair in his hands. What was he _doing?_ The whole reason Yoosung had been killed was because Saeran was involving him in his life, and here he was calling him as he shook and sobbed and grieved over a loss that hadn’t even actually happened. But it _would_. It _would_ if he carried on like this.

“Okay, uh, I don’t know what’s happening but you have to breathe properly. I think you have to breathe in through your mouth and out through your nose. Wait, no, it’s the other way round I think. Fuck, I can’t remember. Just try breathing in for eight seconds and then holding it for… was it eight seconds? I don’t remember, shit.” Yoosung was rambling, and Saeran tried to say something, but his voice caught in his throat. “I could sing to you? Or read something? Wait, I’ll get my laptop and look up how to do breathing exercises. Is Saeyoung there? Can you get him to help?”

“N-no,” Saeran managed to croak out. He didn’t want Saeyoung to help. In fact, he wasn’t even sure why he’d called Yoosung. His throat was so dry, and he reached for the glass of water on the table by his bed, gulping some down.

“That’s fine,” Yoosung breathed, his voice sound a little more relieved now that Saeran had spoken. “Are you drinking something? That’s good, it’ll help. Is there anything I can do?”

Saeran placed the glass down and attempted to clear his airway. “I don’t know why I called.” His voice scratched against his throat, and it was barely even audible, but Yoosung seemed to hear.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you did. I want to help.”

“What time is it?”

“Oh it’s… uh… 2:39am,” Yoosung said. “But don’t feel bad for waking me up. I still want to help you.”

“I… I had a dream,” Saeran told him. He should just hang up.

“A dream,” Yoosung repeated slowly, and Saeran could tell he was thinking. “About what?”

“People died. It was my fault.” _Hang. Up._

“It wasn’t real, Saeran,” Yoosung told him soothingly. Saeran found it strangely calming to hear his name drop so easily from the other boy’s lips.

“I don’t know why I called you,” he said again. “We aren’t friends.”

“We can be.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have friends.” _Just hang up._

“You could?”

“No. I can’t.”

“But… _why?_ ”

“Lots of reasons.” Saeran choked back a sob, closing his eyes and hugging his knees against his chest. He heard Yoosung exhale on the other end of the line.

“Are you tired?”

Saeran nodded before realising Yoosung couldn’t see him. “Yes.”

“Do you want me to sing you a lullaby to help you fall asleep?”

“Y-you would do that?”

“Of course,” Yoosung said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“No…no that’s okay,” Saeran stumbled over his words. No one had ever offered to do something so… innocent. So nice. Not for him. “I’ll just go to sleep by myself.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I don’t know why I called you,” Saeran repeated for the third time. He couldn’t wrap his head around why his body had decided he wanted to speak to Yoosung, clicking his number as though it had been on autopilot.

“That’s okay. You can call any time you want.”

“Thanks,” Saeran said shortly, too exhausted for any further conversation. “Bye.”

“Goodnight, Saeran.”

Saeran ripped the phone from his ear and hit the ‘end’ button. He gripped it in his hand for a moment, the edges of it digging into his palm, his room suddenly completely silent save for the ringing in his ears. His phone buzzed in his hand and he glanced at it.

 

                **(02:43)** [Photo attachment]

                **(02:43)** It’s a full moon tonight.

 

Saeran lay on his side, holding his phone in front of his face, staring at the low quality photograph of the moon Yoosung had sent him.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his body still shaking slightly as his eyes dropped shut and he fell into a different, more comforting darkness.


	7. a beachfront of bad blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the longest chapter so far (by like... almost 2000 words) but it's important!!  
> I constantly worry that the story is developing too quickly, but meh

_**yoosung** _

The party had been set for three weeks’ time, and Yoosung was nervous. Not for himself, but for Saeran. Would he be expected to go? He was now an official RFA member, after all, but he wasn’t actually contributing to the organisation of the party. He had been in the chatroom once in total, and that seemed to have ended badly. Part of Yoosung wished he would use the chatroom more.

Yoosung spent a lot of his time taking photos of the sky now. He hadn’t taken any videos yet, but perhaps he would today. He was exhausted after having been woken up so early in the morning from the unexpected phonecall, but he had been so glad Saeran had called him. He felt as though it now left their lines of communication a little more open than they had been, and Yoosung hoped that Saeran was starting to trust him. He had text him that morning, checking if he was okay.

 

                **(08:19)** Hey, how are you today?^^

 

It was nearing midday and he still hadn’t received a reply. Yoosung gazed out the window of his classroom, tapping his pen impatiently on the blank page of his notepad as he thought about what Saeran might be doing right now – possibly still sleeping after having such a rough night? Yoosung would send him a photo – or maybe a video – as soon as he got out of class. Maybe that would help him feel better. He was worried about him, of course, but he kept convincing himself that Saeran had sounded a lot calmer when he’d hung up. He would be okay.

He had been considering it for a while now, but he wanted to take Saeran outside and go for a walk with him. He had been locked inside the bunker for months now, and as much of a hermit as Yoosung was, he didn’t think even _he’d_ be able to handle that. It couldn’t be good for Saeran’s health.

He had been rehearsing what he was going to say to Saeyoung in his head ever since he’d woken up that morning. He _had_ to convince him to let Saeran go outside. He understood why he was anxious about it, but if Yoosung was there then maybe… just maybe Saeran wouldn’t run away. He didn’t doubt Saeyoung would put a tracker on his clothes anyway, just to make sure, but Yoosung _had_ to try and explain that he felt like Saeran would be better if he finally got to see the sky for real. He knew Saeran liked the pictures he sent, but Yoosung got the impression that he was getting more and more frustrated the longer he was stuck indoors.

There was also the thought in the back of Yoosung’s mind telling him that the sooner it happened, the more likely it’d be that he would be able to go to the party in three weeks.

He had to ask today.

The wind outside was strong at the moment, and the clouds were moving quickly. It was the perfect opportunity to take his first video for Saeran, but he was stuck in school for another three hours.

Yoosung was restless, unable to pay attention. Saeran had been occupying his thoughts a lot lately. At first, Yoosung hadn’t been entirely sure whether his determination to be friends was purely down to proving to himself that he _could_ be. But now, whenever he received a text from Saeran, he could feel his heart start to beat faster. Whenever the text was more than one or two words, his face flushed slightly as he excitedly typed out his reply.

During his next class, he was pulled out of his thoughts by a buzz coming from his pocket. Could it be Saeran? Yoosung desperately wanted to check. He eyed his teacher at the front of the classroom, who was droning on as always, seemingly unaware that 90% of his students weren’t paying attention, and subtly pulled his phone out his pocket, holding it under the desk. He was grateful he sat at one of the desks near the back.

It was from Saeran.

 

                **(13:14)** Thank you.

 

The two words sent warmth coursing throughout Yoosung’s body. He really did feel as though he was getting somewhere, and he found that the more he talked to Saeran, the more he liked him.

 

                **(13:15)** You’re welcome :)

 

He couldn’t think of anything else to say at that moment, so he slid his phone back into his pocket. He felt bad replying with something so final, but he should probably at least try and focus on whatever the teacher was saying. Geography wasn’t his strong point, after all.

It almost made him jump out of his skin when he felt his phone buzz again. He let out a small yelp, earning himself a few confused glances from his classmates, to which he responded with a sheepish half-smile. Sliding his phone out his pocket once again and flipping it open in one swift motion, he read the message. It was another one from Saeran.

 

                **(13:16)** Aren’t you in school?

 

Yoosung felt his heart jump a little. Not only was Saeran starting a new conversation, but he was showing a genuine interest in Yoosung. Was he concerned? Or perhaps just confused. Yoosung could barely contain the smile that was trying to break out across his face.

 

                **(13:17)** Yes, but I’m really bored.

                **(13:17)** Geography confuses me.

 

He kept the conversation screen open, flicking his eyes up to look at the teacher for a moment before glancing back at his texts to see a response come through.

 

                **(13:17)** Then maybe you should pay attention.

 

Yoosung grinned for real this time, before looking around the classroom. No one else seemed to have noticed him smiling at his phone like a weirdo, and he typed out a quick reply.

 

                **(13:18)** Maybe, but it’s more interesting talking to you.

                **(13:18)** What was your favourite subject in school?

 

The next response took a little longer to come through, making Yoosung worry he’d done something wrong.

 

                **(13:20)** I didn’t go to school.

 

Shit. Yoosung had completely forgotten about that. What was he supposed to say to that? He didn’t have to think for too long before another message came through.

 

                **(13:20)** But… if I had I think it would have been art.

 

Art? Wow, Yoosung wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but it hadn’t been that.

 

                **(13:21)** Really?? I didn’t realise you liked art. That’s pretty cool!

 

Yoosung wondered if Saeran would ever show him any of his art. Or maybe he’d never actually made any, and just liked the idea of it. Either way, Yoosung added it to his list.

Things Saeran Likes: the sky, ice cream, cotton candy, clouds, art.

The list was getting longer and longer, and it was giving Yoosung a much better idea of who Saeran was as a person. He loved learning new things about him, but occasionally worried he was pushing him too far. Today, it seemed like Saeran was in a good mood. Yoosung could tell, because his replies were quicker and longer. He was making an attempt to properly engage with Yoosung, and Yoosung felt overwhelmingly happy about that. Another text buzzed through.

 

                **(13:22)** Yeah. I designed my tattoo.

 

Huh? Yoosung was confused. Wasn’t the tattoo just the Mint Eye logo? Or perhaps Saeran meant the swirls and other parts of it rather than the eye. Yoosung felt another smile stretch across his face and he started to type a response.

“Yoosung Kim.” Yoosung’s head snapped up to look at his teacher who was staring directly at him, a stern but bored look on his face. Yoosung felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Yes?” he tried to stop his voice wobbling.

“You’ve been smiling at your crotch for the past five or so minutes. I would appreciate it if you could pay attention.”

“Right, sorry.”

Yoosung gripped his phone under his desk as everyone turned away from him one by one. He waited until the teacher turned to write something on the board before replying to Saeran as quickly as he could.

 

                **(13:24)** sorry teahcer caught me onmy phone i’ll talk to u later

 

He shoved his phone back in his pocket, ignoring the itch he felt in his fingers begging him to check it when it buzzed a few moments later.

Once the class finished, he grabbed his phone while walking to his next one to read the text.

 

                **(13:25)** I told you to pay attention.

 

Yoosung felt himself smile.

 

* * *

 

As soon as classes were over, he stood in the courtyard and dialled Saeyoung’s number, not expecting him to pick up. He did on the fifth ring.

“Yoosung?”

“Saeyoung! I didn’t think you’d answer.”

“Do you really think so low of me?” Saeyoung snorted, and Yoosung rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I do. Anyway, I didn’t call to talk about that.” Yoosung paused, gulping. “I called to talk about Saeran.”

“Saeran?” Saeyoung’s joking tone immediately disappeared. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong… well, not exactly.” Yoosung took in a deep breath. “But it might be soon.”

“I…uh… okay? What are you trying to say?”

“He wants to go outside, Saeyoung.” Yoosung kept talking as quickly as he could to try and get his point across, anything he’d rehearsed earlier completely abandoning his mind. “I know you’re worried to let him in case he runs away, but he really wants to see the sky. The photos I’m sending him aren’t going to be enough soon. You can’t just keep him locked in like this! I want to go for a walk with him. I don’t think he’ll run away… not from me.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “At least, I hope so.”

Yoosung heard Saeyoung sigh and he could practically hear the gears turning in his head as there was a moment of silence. Yoosung hoped he would agree to it, but if he didn’t he could keep trying to convince him.

“I don’t know, Yoosung…”

“Is he coming to the party? Because if he is, don’t you think he should go outside first? Otherwise it’ll be way too overwhelming for him. I’ll stick with him the whole time! I promise! And you’ll probably put a tracker on his jacket or something anyway, so you’ll know where he goes if he does end up running away, _which he won’t!_ And you would be there, too!”

“He has been improving recently,” Saeyoung admitted quietly, more to himself than to Yoosung. “And… I know I can’t keep him stuck in here forever. I’m just worried about… everything. What if it’s too much for him?” Saeyoung paused and Yoosung held his breath, “I was hoping he would be able to go to the party, but is three weeks enough time for him to feel up to that?”

“If you let him outside, it could be,” Yoosung pleaded desperately.

“I know you care for him,” Saeyoung said suddenly. “And even though he probably doesn’t show it, he cares for you too.” Yoosung felt something flutter in his stomach. “So, I think it would be best if I didn’t come along with you two.”

“So you’ll let him go?” Yoosung breathed, barely daring to believe what he was hearing. Saeyoung sighed.

“Okay.”

“Yes! When?”

“I guess… sooner is probably better than later. It’s Saturday tomorrow, so maybe then?” Saeyoung suggested. “I’ll have to ask Saeran.”

“Thank you!”

“No, Yoosung. Thank _you_ ,” Saeyoung said.

They said their goodbyes before hanging up, and Yoosung was so happy he felt like dancing. He hadn’t expected it to go that well, and he knew Saeran would be happy.

He pulled up his camera app and took a ten second video of the sky. The wind was still pretty strong, so the clouds were moving and transforming rapidly.

 

                **(15:27)** [Video attachment]

                **(15:27)** Windy today!

 

Yoosung got the bus back home and felt his phone buzz in his pocket as he unlocked his door, stepping inside and chucking his bag aside before opening the message as another came through.

 

                **(15:48)** Thank you.

                **(15:48)** Saeyoung said you convinced him.

 

Yoosung smiled. Part of him wanted to call Saeran to get a better idea of his reaction, but he felt as though that might be too intrusive. He typed out his response.

 

                **(15:49)** That’s okay! I’ll definitely see you tomorrow, then?

 

As he pressed ‘send’ a message came through at the same time.

 

                **(15:49)** So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.

 

Yoosung let out a giggle as he kicked off his shoes and headed over to his desk, sitting down. He spent the night thinking of possible places to take Saeran that wouldn’t be too overwhelming, but that he would like all the same. He was already excited.

 

* * *

 

Yoosung arrived at the Choi’s house at around 11am, and was greeted by an incredibly nervous looking Saeyoung, who quickly pulled him inside and closed the door.

“Okay, don’t stay out too long, please,” he sounded frantic and worried. “Try and be back in… I don’t know, an hour? Or text me if it’ll be longer. And if anything happens, call or text me straight away. Oh, and don’t go too far-”

“Saeyoung,” Yoosung interrupted his best friend’s rambling, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. We’ll be fine.”

Saeyoung exhaled. “I know. I’m just worried.”

Yoosung turned as he heard a door open, and saw Saeran standing in his doorframe. His face was unreadable, but his hands were fidgeting. Yoosung noticed how his white and pink hair had grown out a considerable amount, leaving the red roots visible. Yoosung wondered if he would grow his hair out to its natural colour. Part of him wanted to see it.

He felt his stomach flip when Saeran made eye contact with him, and Yoosung smiled widely.

“Hey, Saeran!” he greeted him.

“Hi,” he replied, taking a few steps towards them before stopping. He was already wearing his shoes and a jacket, and he had a black scarf around his neck.

“Are you ready to go?” Yoosung asked, and Saeran nodded in response. Yoosung stepped back as Saeran headed towards them, and Saeyoung pulled the door open again as he walked through it. His face didn’t change in expression, but Yoosung could feel the nerves emanating from him.

Just as he was about to follow, Saeyoung tugged his sleeve, pulling him to a gentle stop.

“Take care of him, okay? I’ll leave the door unlocked so you can come back anytime.”

Yoosung nodded, smiling as Saeyoung let go. He rushed to catch up with Saeran and they walked up the stairs to get to the door. He could hear Saeran’s breaths coming out faster and faster as they approached the outside world.

“How are you feeling?” Yoosung asked softly. Saeran shot him a look.

“Trying to figure out if I’ll run away?”

“No. I’m just excited.”

“Why? You go outside every day,” Saeran pointed out.

“Not for me, for _you._ ”

Saeran rolled his eyes, and they eventually reached the door. Yoosung pushed it open and they stepped outside.

Yoosung watched Saeran closely as the fresh air hit his face. His head immediately titled upwards and he gazed at the sky. It was cloudy today, but Yoosung knew that Saeran liked clouds, so it was okay. They stood there for a moment as Yoosung watched Saeran’s impossibly green eyes flicking about, jumping from cloud to cloud. He wasn’t quite smiling, but his face looked so relaxed and innocent that Yoosung couldn’t help the smile that broke out across his own lips. He could stare at him for hours.

Yoosung consciously noticed for the first time how… how _pretty_ Saeran was. Of course, he’d noticed before, but he’d never quite… _noticed_. He had high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. His bone structure was sharp and striking, and somehow the bleached white hair enhanced it. His parted lips were slightly chapped, but still looked soft and pink. He stood with his hands in his jacket pockets, and Yoosung noted in his mind how skinny he was. Perhaps he could cook for him someday. And his eyes… his eyes were really something. Whenever they looked at him, Yoosung felt as though they were staring into his soul, and the long, dark lashes made the minty-green look even brighter.

Suddenly Saeran’s eyes dropped from the sky and looked back at Yoosung. Yoosung blinked. He had been staring and… why had he been staring?

“You’re staring at me,” Saeran commented, his eyebrows raising slightly.

“Oh! Sorry, I just… uhm…” Yoosung stammered. He coughed once to clear his throat before continuing. “You look happy.”

“Happy,” Saeran repeated, as he turned to look back at the sky. “I guess I feel better right now than I felt before.”

“That’s good,” Yoosung breathed. He tore his eyes away from Saeran. He knew he was being weird, so he glanced back up at him in a way he hoped looked casual. “I was thinking we could go and get some ice cream?”

He didn’t miss how Saeran’s eyes widened for a split second at his offer before returning to their usual, narrow shape. “Isn’t it too cold for ice cream?”

“It’s never too cold for ice cream.” Yoosung felt himself grin and Saeran looked back at him. He could’ve sworn his lips curved upwards just a fraction. It was still enough to make Yoosung’s face flush slightly.

“Okay.”

They walked next to each other, and Yoosung was strangely aware of Saeran’s body walking next to his. Not in the way he usually was when he walked next to someone. Perhaps his heart was pumping so fast because he was worried Saeran might run away.

“What’s your favourite flavour ice cream?” Yoosung asked.

“I usually have strawberry.”

“I like strawberry too,” Yoosung nodded in agreement. “But I usually get vanilla. I guess that’s kind of boring, huh?”

“No,” Saeran replied. “It’s not boring,”

“Hmm, Saeyoung always makes fun of me for it.”

“Saeyoung always makes fun of you anyway,” Saeran commented, and Yoosung laughed at this. He wasn’t sure if Saeran had intended it to be a joke, but the laugh wasn’t because it was funny so much as it was because Saeran was actually having a proper conversation with him.

“That’s true. He’s pretty mean.”

They sank back into a strange silence which was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. It was just…there.  Saeran kept his eyes on the ground as they walked, and tensed slightly whenever someone walked past.

They eventually reached the ice cream shop Yoosung had been planning on taking him to, and held the door open so Saeran could step inside first.

There were actually a few ice cream stores around this area, but Yoosung had chosen this one because he felt as though it would be the least busy. Luckily, it looked like he’d been right. There was a couple sitting at one of the tables inside, and one person at the counter who was just finishing ordering. Yoosung breathed a sigh of relief.

“So, would you like strawberry, then?” Yoosung asked, just to confirm that was what Saeran wanted. It definitely wasn’t because he liked the sound of his voice.

“Yeah,” Saeran answered, burying the bottom half of his face into his scarf as he glanced a little nervously at the couple by the window. He followed Yoosung closely as he made his way to the counter.

He ordered a strawberry cone for Saeran and vanilla for himself, and they left the store.

“I was thinking we could go to the park nearby. It’s pretty big, and we can probably find somewhere to sit and look at the sky, if you’d like.”

“Okay,” Saeran agreed, holding the ice cream to his lips.

They walked in silence as they headed to the park. There were a few people dotted around the place, but they were reasonably spread out so it wasn’t long before the two of them found an empty bench in a fairly secluded area. Yoosung tried to come up with a topic for conversation, and was surprised when Saeran spoke first.

“Do you know where to get bleach?”

Yoosung blinked and looked at Saeran. “You mean for your hair?” he asked. Saeran nodded. “Yeah, there’s a drugstore that sells hairdye not too far from here. We can go there after, if you want?”

Saeran raised his hand to his hair and ruffled through it thoughtfully, and as it lifted slightly, Yoosung could see more of the red roots underneath the white. “Hm,” was all Saeran responded with.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Yeah, that would be good,” he said flatly, dropping his hand into his lap, and pausing before saying. “I like the smell of it.”

“The bleach?”

“Yeah.”

Saeran tilted his head up to look at the sky again, and Yoosung felt himself smiling at the expression of serenity on his face.

“Why do you like the sky so much?” Yoosung asked softly. Saeran didn’t stop looking up.

“It’s an escape, I guess,” he answered after a short pause. “It’s something that never changes, but at the same time it always does.”

“Wow,” Yoosung breathed. “Yeah… I guess that’s true.”

Saeran’s eyes dropped down to his ice cream and he licked it delicately with his tongue. For some reason, this made Yoosung’s face heat up, and he had to look away. He took a lick of his own ice cream to distract himself.

“Aren’t you worried I’ll run away?” Saeran asked suddenly. Yoosung looked at him in surprise.

“Are you going to?”

Saeran furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “No.”

“Then, no, I’m not worried.”

“Why are you so nice to me?” he looked at Yoosung, staring at him as though he was studying his face carefully to try and figure it out. Yoosung was a little taken aback at the sudden question, which felt a lot like an accusation.

“Because… I like you?” It came out like more of a question, and Saeran’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You like me?”

“Well… yeah. You’re a good person.” Yoosung scratched the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand. Why was he sweating? Saeran furrowed his eyebrows.

“I’m not a good person.”

“I think you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Fine then. You’re an _interesting_ person.” Yoosung cocked his head to the side as though to say ‘is that a good enough answer?’

“Interesting,” Saeran repeated and then he snorted. “You mean fucked up.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Yoosung sighed, angling his body in Saeran’s direction a little more. “Like I said, everyone’s messed up.”

“Hmph,” Saeran huffed, licking his ice cream again for a moment. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“How are _you_ messed up?” he glanced at him, as though this were a challenge. Yoosung looked down at his hand and started fidgeting with the zip on his jacket.

“I do nothing but game. I’m failing most of my classes. I thought my cousin died, but then it turned out she didn’t, so that’s pretty big. I dyed my hair in the hopes of getting a girlfriend, but no one seems interested. I have no idea what I want to do with my future, but I’m being forced to make a decision anyway.” Yoosung paused, shaking his head. “I know these are nothing compared to everything you’ve been through, but I still stand by my point.”

Saeran was being strangely quiet, and when Yoosung looked back at him, he was staring straight ahead, into the middle distance.

“I guess you’re right,” he said slowly, “but that doesn’t make it okay.”

“To want to be friends with you?” Yoosung asked and Saeran nodded. “I really don’t care, Saeran. I like you, and I want you to like me too.”

Saeran paused and bit his lower lip. Yoosung wondered if perhaps that’s why his lips were so chapped.

“I don’t… I don’t _dis_ like you.” Saeran looked down as he admitted this, and Yoosung felt an overwhelming sense of pride swell up inside his chest.

“Thank you,” Yoosung breathed.

They sat in silence until they finished their ice cream, and Yoosung led the way to the drugstore to get some boxed bleach for Saeran’s hair. He eyed the red hairdye colours briefly, wondering whether Saeran would ever consider going back to his natural colour. Perhaps he wasn’t ready for that yet. Perhaps he never would be.

As they walked back to the bunker, Yoosung carrying the carrier bag, he tried to strike up conversation again.

“Do you need any help with the bleach?”

Saeran shook his head. “I’ve been doing it myself for a while now."

“Oh… well, you do a pretty good job,” Yoosung admitted. Perhaps it had something to do with Saeran’s apparent artistic side, but his hair always looked good. “Do you think we’ll be able to hang out again soon?”

“If Saeyoung lets me outside.”

“What if I came over? Would you still want to then?” Yoosung asked hopefully. Saeran frowned slightly.

“I guess.”

“Okay, well, maybe I can come over sometime next week. We can go to the park again if Saeyoung agrees to it,” Yoosung offered, and Saeran sighed. Yoosung knew he was annoyed that he had to follow his brother’s rules, but there wasn’t really much either of them could do about that.

They reached the bunker and Yoosung handed Saeran the plastic bag with the bleach inside. He felt his heart skip a little when their fingers brushed together. His hands were so cold, and Yoosung had the sudden urge to clasp them in his to warm them up.

His face flushed at the thought, and shook it from his mind quickly as they pushed the door open. As promised, Saeyoung had left it unlocked.

“Saeran!” they heard him yell as they’d barely even stepped into the room. “Yoosung! How did your date go?” He ran over to them, skidding to a halt just in front of them as they closed the door.

“Date?” Yoosung spluttered, and Saeyoung just chuckled at flustered Yoosung and stone-cold Saeran.

“I shouldn’t have come back,” Saeran grumbled, kicking off his shoes and storming to his room. Yoosung shot Saeyoung a look.

“Well done, genius.”

“Honestly though, how did it go?” he asked a little more seriously this time.

“I think it went well,” Yoosung nodded. “We went and got ice cream and talked a little bit. It was nice. I like hanging out with him.”

“He seems to like you.”

“All he said was that he didn’t _dis_ like me, but I guess that’s something.”

Saeyoung clutched his hand to his heart. “Oh God!! That’s basically like him confessing his undying love!”

Yoosung rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Do you think you’ll let him go outside more?”

Saeyoung looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yes, I think so,” he finally decided. “He seems to have improved so much more since you’ve been sending him those pictures, and I’m less worried about him running away now. He’ll probably be too tired to go out again tomorrow, but maybe I can go for a walk with him on Monday and see how it goes… I just hope he’ll be able to come to the party.”

“Don’t force him to it he doesn’t want to, though. Okay?” Yoosung frowned, and Saeyoung cocked his head to the side, looking at him a little oddly.

“You really care about him, huh?”

“Well… I mean, we haven’t known each other th-that long.” Yoosung stumbled over his words and his eyes dropped to his hands as he started fidgeting. “But… yeah. I like him.” Saeyoung stared at him for a moment, and he shuffled on his feet. “Anyway, I should get home. I have homework…”

He said his goodbyes to Saeyoung, and called out to Saeran, but didn’t get a response.

As he walked to the bus stop, he snapped a picture of one of the clouds in the sky. It was fluffy and white with a pink glow around the edges.

 

                **(12:13)** [Photo attachment]

                **(12:13)** I know you just saw the sky for real, but this cloud reminds me of your hair.

 

He flipped his phone shut and slipped it into his pocket, smiling to himself.

Things Saeran Likes: the sky, ice cream (strawberry), cotton candy, clouds, art, the smell of bleach.

Yoosung couldn’t wait to keep adding to his list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback would be greatly appreciated!


	8. a coast that's unclear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another lengthy Yoosung chapter. but don't worry, the next one is a Saeran one!

_**yoosung** _

Yoosung had been meaning to text Saeran on Monday morning, but had found himself waking up with just under 10 minutes to actually get to the bus stop for school, sending all thoughts of Saeran screeching out of his mind and replacing them with a constant stream of ‘ _AAAAAAAAH’._

He just about managed to catch the bus. He was a panting, sweaty mess, and had forgotten his hairclips which meant his hair kept falling into his eye and he had to constantly blow it out the way. Halfway to school, he realised he’d left his homework due first period lying on his desk at home, and smacked himself on the forehead, groaning audibly, which earned him some strange looks from the people surrounding him on the bus. He knew the professor wouldn’t believe him when he told them it was an honest mistake, because he was already falling behind. He still wasn’t used to not being the teacher’s pet.

After a hellish first period, he dragged his feet to second period and hoped for a better class. As it turned out, they had test which he hadn’t known about or studied for.

When lunch finally came around, Yoosung was already exhausted. Today was not a good day, and his hair was annoying him.

He sat in the cafeteria with his friends, Kwangmin and Daesung, when Yoosung felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at it, seeing that it was from Saeran.

Yoosung felt his eyebrows shoot up and his breath quicken. Saeran had never text him first before. He opened the message.

 

                **(12:36)** [Photo attachment]

                **(12:36)** Saeyoung took me outside today.

 

It was a photo of the sky, with a few small puffs of white clouds among the blue. It looked as though they had gone for a walk down a trail of some sort, and Saeran had pointed his camera directly upwards, because Yoosung could see trees framing either side of the photo.

Yoosung felt his heart skip and his face flush. He hadn’t expected Saeran to send him a photo when he went outside, and he felt so honoured that he had thought of him. His face broke out into a smile as he typed his reply.

 

                **(12:37)** That’s a really good photo! Where did you go?

 

He tapped on the photo again and saved it to his camera roll. The thought of Saeran thinking of him… of caring for him enough to send a photo… sent Yoosung’s brain into overdrive. He got a reply.

 

                **(12:38)** It’s in a forest near the bunker. We’re sitting on the grass now.

 

So they were still out? Yoosung felt himself smile even wider, because that meant he wasn’t even just an afterthought. Saeran was thinking about him right now as he was outside and was texting him rather than looking up at the sky.

Yoosung pressed his finger to his lips for a moment and then typed out a response. His smile dropped from his face and he gulped. Should he send it? Was it too much?

He closed his eyes and pressed send anyway.

 

                **(12:38)** I wish I could be there too.

 

Had it been a mistake? Yoosung didn’t know. His stomach started churning as soon as it had sent, and he snapped his phone shut to stop himself looking at the screen and working himself up about it too much.

“Are you texting a girl?” Kwangmin asked him, wiggling his eyebrows. Yoosung looked up at him and felt his face flush against his will.

“No!” Yoosung narrowed his eyes in an attempt to appear threatening. “I’m texting a friend.”

“Is it a girl?” Daesung interjected, grinning.

“No, I already told you!” Yoosung insisted. He squeaked as his phone buzzed in his hand again, and his friends laughed. He just scowled at them as he flipped open his phone and read the message.

 

                **(12:39)** Me too.

 

Yoosung felt his heart soar. He wasn’t sure what kind of response he’d been expecting, but this was the best thing he could possibly have hoped for.

“It’s _so_ a girl, look at his face,” he heard Daesung whisper. Yoosung didn’t even care about their teasing, he was too happy.

 

                **(12:39)** Maybe I could come over later?

 

It might be a long shot, but he may as well try. Saeran seemed happy, and that made Yoosung happy.

“You’re blushing,” Kwangmin pointed out, grinning as Yoosung flipped his phone shut.

“I’m just texting my friend,” Yoosung sighed.

“ _We_ don’t make you blush like that,” Daesung said, sticking out his bottom lip as though he were offended.

“Because you’re jerks.”

“What?!” Kwangmin exclaimed as Daesung gasped. “Us?? Jerks?!”

“Yes.”

“Who are you texting though?” Kwangmin asked, slipping out of his ‘offended’ act, seeming genuinely curious.

“My friend, Saeran,” Yoosung answered, ignoring how his stomach flipped a little. He felt his phone buzz in his hand twice more.

“So it _is_ actually a guy,” Kwangmin said thoughtfully.

“Didn’t know you swung that way, huh…”

“I don’t!” Yoosung squeaked. “He’s just a friend. I’m trying to help him.”

“Help him?”

Yoosung rolled his eyes and flipped open his phone to read Saeran’s response.

 

                **(12:40)** Ok.

                **(12:40)** Aren’t you in class now?

 

Yoosung tried to supress his smile to stop his friends teasing him.

 

                **(12:41)** Lunch break. My friends are being mean, though.

 

“Hey, no we aren’t!” Daesung screeched in his ear, making Yoosung scream and almost fall out his seat.

“You shouldn’t be reading my messages!” Yoosung clutched his phone to his chest, trying to slow his suddenly racing heart. He felt it buzz again and he pulled it from his chest to check it.

“He texts back pretty fast,” commented Kwangmin under his breath. Yoosung rolled his eyes.

 

                **(12:41)** Do you want me to hit them?

 

Yoosung let out a burst of laughter at this, and felt himself squeal a little on the inside. Did Saeran really care about him that much?

 

                **(12:42)** No, that’s okay! They mean well.

 

They text back and forth during the lunch break until he regretfully informed Saeran he needed to head back to class. He promised he’d come over once he finished for the day, which was only an hour more, but it felt as though it dragged by. Maths was not something Yoosung cared about right now.

Eventually the bell rang signalling the end of the period and Yoosung all but bolted out the school grounds and hopped on the bus to head to Saeran and Saeyoung’s house. He snapped a photo of the sky out the window as he bubbled with excitement.

 

                **(14:03)** [Photo attachment]

                **(14:03)** I’m on my way!

 

Eventually the bus pulled up to the stop and Yoosung stumbled off, pushing his loose hair out of his face. He should’ve bought some hairclips on his way here. Oh well, it didn’t really matter now.

He sent a text to Saeyoung asking to be let in, in the hopes of saving himself from knocking on the door and probably getting threatened with an explosion if he didn’t speak in Arabic. Saeyoung opened the door for him, grinning widely before pulling him straight into a hug. Yoosung squeaked.

“What’s this for?” he asked, uncertainly wrapping his arms round his friend.

“Thank you,” Saeyoung whispered. Before Yoosung could ask what for, he stepped out the hug and called. “Saeran! Yoosung’s here!”

Yoosung could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he stepped into the living room, Saeyoung closing the door behind him. He saw Saeran step out his bedroom and Yoosung immediately shot him a smile.

“Hey!” he said a little breathlessly.

“Hi,” Saeran replied. He was looking at Yoosung, and although he wasn’t smiling, his expression looked… softer than usual. Is this what Saeyoung had meant before when he said Saeran looked ‘less pissed off’ when texting Yoosung? He hoped so.

“You did your hair,” Yoosung noted, glancing up at the lack of red in his hair. Saeran had done a surprisingly good job of it for a boxed dye, and he reached up to run his fingers through it at Yoosung’s comment.

“I helped!” Saeyoung exclaimed. “We did it this afternoon, when we got back!”

“It looks good,” Yoosung nodded appreciatively.

“Thanks,” Saeran said, his eyes dropping to the floor. Oh no. Had Yoosung made him uncomfortable?

“Look at this photo I got of a squirrel trying to climb up Saeran’s leg!” Saeyoung said excitedly, flopping down on the sofa. Yoosung sat next to him, glancing at Saeran who was glaring at his brother.

“I told you not to take that, idiot,” he hissed.

“It’s cute,” Saeyoung countered, pulling up the picture anyway and holding his phone up so Yoosung could see.

In the photo, Saeran was crouched slightly to get a better look at the squirrel at his feet. It was looking up at him, as though expecting something, and didn’t look scared at all. Yoosung wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone able to get so close to a squirrel without it running away. He felt his face break out into a smile at the peaceful look on Saeran’s face and the soft look in his eyes. It really _was_ cute.

He was surprised when Saeran suddenly appeared in front of them, yanking the phone from Saeyoung’s grasp and tapping some buttons, probably to delete the photo. Saeyoung didn’t struggle, though. Yoosung had no doubt he’d already saved the photo somewhere else.

Saeran tossed the phone back into his brother’s lap and folded his arms defensively. “I hate you.”

“I love you too,” Saeyoung grinned at him, causing Saeran to roll his eyes. He sat on the sofa next to Yoosung, and Yoosung was suddenly hyperaware of his body next to him. “Right, well I gotta get some work done, so I’ll see you guys later.”

“Hope you don’t come back,” Saeran muttered, and Yoosung tried to choke back a laugh at his bluntness. Saeyoung walked behind the sofa, ruffling Saeran and Yoosung’s hair with each hand before heading to his office.

“So, you had a good day today?” Yoosung asked, biting the inside of his cheek nervously. Why was he nervous all of a sudden?

“Yeah,” Saeran nodded, looking down at his fidgeting hands. “Would’ve been better if Saeyoung hadn’t been there.”

Yoosung barked out a laugh, and then cringed at how loud it had been. “He can be pretty annoying, I guess.”

Saeran reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I can show you more pictures,” he said a little stiffly, and Yoosung felt excitement bubbling inside him as Saeran opened his gallery and tapped the first photo.

It was the sky, similar to the photo he’d sent Yoosung but slightly blurrier. He swiped across and Yoosung recognised that one as the one he’d received.

“That’s the one you sent, right?” he commented, leaning a little closer. Part of him wanted to rest his chin on Saeran’s shoulder for some reason, but he felt as though that would be too much. He wasn’t even entirely sure _why_ he wanted to.

“Right,” Saeran replied. “It was less blurry than the first one.”

“It’s pretty,” Yoosung breathed, daring to lean closer as Saeran swiped across again. This picture was of the forest lane, with Saeyoung standing a little further ahead on the trail doing some weird pose for the camera. Yoosung felt himself smile. He hoped this meant Saeran and Saeyoung’s relationship was improving. Perhaps going outside really did make all the difference to Saeran’s mood. He swiped again and this time, Saeyoung was jumping in the air with a huge grin on his face. Yoosung giggled, and saw as Saeran’s eyes flicked to look at him for a moment before looking back at his phone.

“He’s an idiot,” Saeran muttered.

He swiped to the next photo which was one of the squirrel looking up at the camera questioningly. It was actually a pretty good photo.

“You’re good at photography,” Yoosung commented as Saeran locked his phone and slid it back into his pocket. He leaned back to give Saeran some more space.

“I guess. It’s not that hard.”

“Well… you’ve seen my photos,” Yoosung laughed nervously. “I’m not that great at taking them.”

“You’re not that bad,” Saeran said, and there was a short pause before he added. “Some are pretty fucking awful though.”

Yoosung laughed and fell back on the sofa comfortably. There was a moment of silence as Yoosung tried to work up enough courage to say what he wanted to say.

“You seem to be happier recently.” Saeran looked at him in surprise, and Yoosung felt the green eyes boring into his own before quickly looking away.

“Because I can go outside.”

“I… I was wondering…” Yoosung trailed off and ran his fingers through his hair nervously before trying again. “I was wondering if you were going to the party?”

“I don’t know.”

“I get it if you’re not! I mean, not that it wouldn’t be nice to see you there, but if you’re not comfortable with it or whatever, that’s fine too. No one wants you to feel like you _have_ to go. There’s no pressure!” Yoosung rambled. “But I bet everyone would really like you there. And it’s not like you won’t know _anyone_! I’ll be there, and so will Saeyoung and Minhee, so you won’t feel like you have no one to talk to!”

“I… I’m not sure,” Saeran shuffled a little awkwardly. “It’s pretty soon.”

“Three weeks,” Yoosung nodded. “Or like… two and a half now. But that’s a reasonable amount of time, and I think Minhee said this one was going to be smaller anyway, so you don’t have to worry about getting too overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed?”

“Like, around strangers,” Yoosung laughed nervously. “I get nervous at the thought of too many strangers at once, too. I usually stick with the other RFA members at parties, and only talk to guests if I need to.”

“Strangers are fine,” Saeran said, surprising Yoosung. “It’s the rest of… you know what? Never mind.”

“The rest of the RFA?” Yoosung clarified, and Saeran’s eyes flicked over to him again before he nodded. “Oh, don’t worry about them! I know they’ll like you. Jumin will probably seem a bit cold at first, but he’s like that with everyone. He doesn’t mean it badly. Jaehee’s nice! She’s opened up a lot more since she’s been friends with Minhee, and I know for sure she’ll be welcoming. And Zen… well… Zen will probably be _too_ friendly, especially if he’s had too much to drink. But if he makes you uncomfortable, I can get him to stop.”

“Hmm,” was all Saeran replied with.

“You obviously don’t _have_ to come, but it’d be nice. I’d like to see you there,” Yoosung admitted, before flushing at his words. Why was he so nervous? He wasn’t saying anything weird.

“I’ll… I’ll think about it,” Saeran finally decided, pulling his legs up onto the sofa and hugging them against his chest.

_He’s so cute._

Yoosung shook the thought from his head. Why was he feeling so weird recently? Was it the excitement of having a new friend? But he’d never felt like this with any of his other friends… actually, except when Minhee had first entered the chatroom. Whenever she spoke to him, he felt himself get excited, but it quickly became clear she was interested in Saeyoung, so he backed off. But it wasn’t as though he had a _crush_ on Saeran or anything…

Throughout the rest of the next two weeks, Yoosung visited as often as he could. He still sent Saeran photos of the sky, despite knowing he went outside pretty much every other day. He seemed to appreciate it anyway.

Yoosung didn’t bring up the party again, but he was noticing small changes in Saeran. He started talking a little more. He started texting him first more regularly. He made jokes which were, admittedly, very dry and sarcastic, but still made Yoosung laugh. It felt as though Saeran was gradually opening up, and Yoosung started feeling like he _actually_ wanted to talk to him and less like he was pushing him to. It was a really good feeling.

One night, exactly a week before the party, Yoosung was laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t do this very often, but Saeran had told him he liked doing it. Yoosung’s list of ‘Things Saeran Likes’ was getting considerably longer, and he had added three new things to it throughout the past week.

The first one, he had found out when they went for a walk. They’d decided to sit on the grass in a small clearing, and a dog had run up to them, greeting them eagerly. Yoosung loved it, and was petting it like crazy, but it seemed far more interested in Saeran. Saeran seemed to like petting it, so Yoosung mentioned it once the owner had come to retrieve it, apologising profusely for absolutely no reason.

“That dog seemed to like you.”

“Yeah,” Saeran said, picking at the grass by his feet. Yoosung had started noticing how Saeran was quite a fidgety person, and he found it strangely endearing. “Most animals do.”

“Huh. What’s your favourite animal?”

“Dogs,” he said almost instantly. “They’re loyal.”

The second thing Saeran liked that Yoosung had discovered, was when he’d been round his house and noticed that he had black nails. He decided to mention it.

“You paint your nails?” he asked, feeling strangely excited. “They look cool!”

“Yeah.” Saeran looked at the colour on his nails, which was already a little chipped in places. “It calms me down.”

“Maybe you could paint mine someday,” Yoosung giggled, and Saeran looked at him in that way that wasn’t quite a smile, but was softer than usual.

“Maybe.”

The third one Yoosung had discovered because he’d been curious of what Saeran enjoyed doing when he wasn’t around.

“What do you do in your free time?”

“I usually just stare at the ceiling in my room.”

“Oh? Do you like it?”

“I dunno,” Saeran shrugged. “It’s just… a constant, I guess.”

Ok, so perhaps that last one wasn’t something Saeran specifically _liked_ , but it was something he did, so Yoosung decided to add it to the list anyway. He went through it in his head once again.

Things Saeran Likes: the sky, ice cream (strawberry), cotton candy, clouds, art, the smell of bleach, dogs, painting his nails, staring at the ceiling.

So, that was the reason Yoosung was staring at the ceiling in that moment. And he was thinking about Saeran. Specifically, he was thinking about how _much_ he thought about Saeran. He was thinking about how Saeran very rarely left his thoughts at any point, day or night. He constantly wanted to text him and to call him and, ideally, to see him. He liked it when they were close – like when they’d accidentally brushed fingers when he had handed him the carrier bag, and when he had been leaning close to him as he’d shown him the photos on his phone. He realised that the strange feeling he always experienced when walking or sitting next to him – the one where he was hyperaware of his presence and closeness – was Yoosung’s hand itching to reach out for him. To hold his hand. Or wrap his arm around his waist. Or stroke his hair. His hair looked as though it would be soft. Yoosung realised that the nerves and butterflies he felt whenever they spoke, the blush that found its way to his cheeks, and the increased heart rate was down to one thing.

He had a crush on Saeran Choi.

He wanted to grab his pillow and bury his face into it, but he stayed staring at the ceiling. He wondered if Saeran was staring at his ceiling right now, too. He wondered if he was thinking about him.

Everything added up, and it was painfully obvious now he thought about it properly. When his friends from school had referred to Saeran as though he were his crush, Yoosung had blushed because it was true. When Saeyoung had referred to their first walk as a ‘date’, Yoosung had become flustered because he _wanted_ it to be true.

Yoosung had never had a crush on a boy before. It’s not that he thought it was disgusting, but the idea of it scared him. It was a whole new, scary world of possibilities he’d never given much thought to before. He always complained about being single and wanting a girlfriend. He’d never had a girlfriend before. What if he never did?

Strangely, he found the idea didn’t bother him.

He tried to remain objective about the situation. He took in a deep breath and attempted to think about it in the same terms as he would have had Saeran been a girl. He didn’t need to freak out over this.

What chance did Yoosung have with Saeran? Was it reasonable to hope for a relationship with him? He was conflicted, and he listed the pros and cons of pursuing this.

Con: Saeran was probably not ready for a romantic relationship yet. He was still recovering.

Pro: Yoosung liked Saeran.

Con: Saeran might not even be interested in guys, let alone Yoosung, and the rejection would hurt.

Pro: Yoosung thought about Saeran all the time.

Con: Yoosung was Saeran’s only real friend, and pursuing this could mean losing that friendship.

Pro: Yoosung _really_ liked Saeran.

Con: Losing their friendship would be difficult for Yoosung too, and would probably tear him apart.

Pro: Maybe Saeran liked Yoosung back?

Con: Confessing sounded scary.

Pro: He knew Saeran was more comfortable around him than other people.

Con: Yoosung had never liked a boy before. What if this was a phase?

Pro: Maybe Yoosung should just go for it?

Con: But he’d only known Saeran for three or so weeks.

Pro: Saeyoung and Minhee had fallen in love over the course of eleven days.

Pro: Yoosung didn’t want to be with anyone other than Saeran.

Pro: He really, _really_ liked him.

Pro: Like… too much.

Yoosung shook his head. Making this list wasn’t really helping. It was just leaving him more conflicted. He would just… have to wait. He’d have to see how things played out. Maybe he should ask someone reliable to advise him on what to do. Not Saeyoung. He was his best friend, but he might not approve of this at all. Jumin probably wasn’t a good choice either. Maybe Minhee? Or Jaehee? They would both remain objective. And there was Zen, who always went on about how he was an expert in the dating field, but then again, this wasn’t about a girl.

Oh, God. It wasn’t about a girl. What would his parents think? If he did, by some miracle, start dating Saeran, would that mean he would have to ‘come out’ to everyone? The thought of that made him bury his face in his hands and groan. He wasn’t even sure what he would ‘come out’ as. Was he gay? Was he bisexual? Was he actually straight, and Saeran was just a one off? _Was that even a thing??_

Gah. Yoosung had no idea. All he knew was that he liked Saeran. That’s all that mattered…right? He was getting ahead of himself anyway… he didn’t know whether it would be a good, sensible idea to talk to Saeran about it.

Perhaps he should ask Minhee. She knew Saeran better than anyone besides Saeyoung.

Yoosung rolled over and buried his face into his pillow in frustration. Why did everything have to be so confusing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *bangs pots and pans* SOFT CRUSH SOFT CRUSH


	9. all the guests at the party, they're so insincere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually really had trouble getting into this chapter at first, but now I think it's one of my favourites!  
> I've proofread this twice, but it's 5:29am so if there are mistakes please point them out and I can correct them when I'm awake lol

_**saeran** _

These past few weeks had been a whirlwind of emotions and a hurricane of new possibilities.

Saeran liked Yoosung. There was no point denying it anymore. But there was still a major problem.

He didn’t want to hurt him.

He was getting better. He was trying _so_ hard to get better, and on all the days he’d seen Yoosung recently, he’d been experiencing one of his ‘okay’ moods. But that didn’t mean he didn’t still get lost in his thoughts, and he lashed out more than he liked to admit. His anger was still there, boiling under the surface and ready to overflow at any moment.

It was strange how Yoosung seemed to calm him. He supposed it was because he was so positive. His laugh was almost contagious, and whenever Saeran heard it spill from his mouth, he couldn’t help but look at him to see how his face lit up along with it. Saeran couldn’t remember the last time he had genuinely laughed like that. He supposed, in a way, he was jealous.

He would never tell either Saeyoung or Yoosung, but he _lived_ for the times he could go outside. He was almost certain they already knew this, because they were constantly offering to go for walks with him. The walks helped him feel calm, which was part of the reason he was feeling a little better recently.

The screams were still echoing around his head, but they were a little more muffled and a little less intense than they had been. He still had night terrors almost every night, but during the day, on the whole, he was coping.

He sometimes asked himself… for what?

Yoosung was a good friend to him, if he could even call him a friend. He still wasn’t sure if that word entirely applied to Yoosung, and he wasn’t sure he wanted it to either. It was too dangerous. And, eventually, they would probably grow apart anyway. It wasn’t good to get too attached.

He still wasn’t sure how he felt about Saeyoung. He had bouts of anger geared towards him sometimes, and then the next moment he would be a sobbing mess in his arms. His mood was still all over the place, a new emotion coming into play every hour or so, which is why he always tried to limit his time with Yoosung. Just in case. He didn’t want him to see him like _that_ again. What a fantastic first impression that had been.

The party had been occupying Saeran’s mind for the past three weeks since it had been mentioned again. As with everything else, Saeran was torn. Part of him wanted to go, to help him feel normal and to prove to himself and everyone else that he _could_. Part of him wanted to vomit every time he thought of being surrounded by so many people for so long and being expected to socialise. He already got exhausted from spending an hour or so with Yoosung, so he wasn’t sure he would be able to handle the party. The part of him that was still angry at Saeyoung and the rest of the RFA wanted to go just so he could ruin the entire thing, like he’d been planning to before. He clutched at his hair and yanked it to ground himself, staring at the ceiling as usual.

He still didn’t know which ‘part’ of him was the real him. He had made no progress whatsoever, and was still desperately confused and often wanted to just die so he never had to figure out the answer.

The party was in two days now, and the thought of it made Saeran’s breath catch in his throat. Both Saeyoung and Yoosung had told him he didn’t have to go if he didn’t want to. Minhee had told him the party would be smaller than usual, but Saeran wasn’t sure if that would make it better or worse. More people meant a lower probability that someone would approach him for a one-on-one conversation in favour of better, more approachable people who they could strike business deals with or whatever the fuck happened at RFA parties. But less people would mean it would be less exhausting, and easier to avoid large group discussions that would set him on edge.

He felt as though, if Yoosung were there, it might be better. Yoosung was, in a lot of ways, like a dog. He was friendly and loyal and persistent in his affections, so Saeran felt as though he could cautiously trust him in a few certain ways. For example, if Saeran got distressed at the party, he felt as though Yoosung would probably help. Of course, there was no guarantee. But Saeran could just run away if not.

It was also becoming painfully and confusingly more obvious that Saeyoung genuinely cared for him too. Saeran remembered a conversation he’d had with Minhee the previous week like it was burned into his soul.

_“He never cared about me. He never even thought to turn back.”_

_“He did care, Saeran. He still does.”_

_“No. He doesn’t. He never thought of me as a brother at all.”_

_Minhee had paused at this. “You know what? You’re right.”_

_“Exactly.”_

_“Saeyoung never referred to you as a brother, at least not to me. But do you know what he did refer to you as? His other half. His missing piece. You’re not just his brother, Saeran, you’re a crucial part of who he is.”_

That had thrown Saeran. At first he’d convinced himself she must be lying, but somehow… somehow it made sense. The way Saeyoung spoke and acted… it was as though he was constantly terrified of losing him again. Saeran was having a harder and harder time convincing himself everything was just an act.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

It was odd how his thoughts kept drifting back to Yoosung. It felt as though he was becoming one of the constants in his life which he valued so much.

Saeran wasn’t sure how he felt about that, either.

He stared at his ceiling thoughtfully. He wondered if Yoosung was thinking about him too.

 

* * *

 

The party was the following day, and Saeran still wasn’t sure whether or not he should make an attempt to attend. He was told it started at noon, but the RFA would be arriving shortly beforehand. He guessed that would also mean him, assuming he decided to go.

Saeyoung had been trying to convince him to attend on yesterday’s walk. Saeran would never tell _anyone_ , but he liked the walks with his brother more than he let on. It reminded him of when they were kids and only had each other, allowing him to forget all the shit that had happened in his miserable 21 years of existence. Nature helped him disconnect from the harsh reality of life and be a little more honest with himself.

“About the party…” Saeyoung had begun, before clearing his throat and trying again, “I would really like you to come. You can meet the other RFA members in a relaxed kind of way, and I promise you can come home whenever you want to. But, obviously, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s entirely your choice.”

“I don’t know,” Saeran had admitted. “I really don’t know.”

“That’s okay. You can decide at the last moment if you have to. You can even show up halfway through if you want. I have a spare suit for you to wear, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Thanks,” Saeran sighed as he looked up at the sky. They were sitting in the usual clearing and he felt exhausted, yet calm. “It’s easier to think about this stuff when we’re here.”

“Yeah,” Saeyoung nodded in agreement. “I’m… I hope this isn’t too much but… I’m so glad we’re together again.” Saeran could hear his brother’s voice catching in his throat as he spoke, and he closed his eyes, allowing the sun to soak into his skin. “I missed you. I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but it’s the truth. There wasn’t a day that passed by where I didn’t think about you. Every disgusting job I had to do… every sleepless night… the only reason I got through it is because I knew I was doing it for you.”

Saeran exhaled heavily, opening his eyes to look directly ahead into the trees, watching them sway softly in the wind. “I can almost believe it when you say it here.”

He heard Saeyoung sigh next to him. “I can’t force you to believe me. I can only try and prove it.”

Saeran hadn’t replied to that.

The conversation had been replayed over and over again in his head countless times, circling round until he’d squeezed the words dry of all their possible meanings.

He couldn’t forgive Saeyoung. Not yet. But… he felt like what he had said was honest. It was as though… in that particular clearing, it was impossible to lie. He knew he was just being naïve, but he was subconsciously trying to find reasons to believe his brother again. It was so hard to hate him when he thought back to how they’d been as children. Saeyoung truly _had_ kept his promise until their dream had been torn away in the hopes of a better life for them both.

It was too bad it hadn’t worked out the way they’d hoped.

As he lay there, Saeran made a deal with himself. If he didn’t have a night terror that night, he would go to the party. If he did have one, he wouldn’t bother.

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, he didn’t dream at all that night.

That meant he would have to go.

As soon as he woke up, he felt the nerves rush right through his body, his anxiety pushing the air from his lungs. He’d promised himself he would go, and he was too stubborn to back out now.

When he told Saeyoung he was coming, he seemed ecstatic, but tried to hide it. Saeran was extra snappy with him due to his nerves, but Saeyoung didn’t seem to care at all. He seemed pleased Saeran had decided to come along at all, which partially pissed him off because it felt annoyingly condescending. Whatever.

Saeran fiddled with the cuffs of his jacket sleeve as he stood in front of the mirror in Saeyoung’s room (the mirror in his own room had been removed a few months ago) and felt like punching it.

It was a pretty simple outfit. Black shirt, black suit jacket and black, skinny trousers which were slightly too big for him. Saeyoung had given him a pale green tie to go with it, but he hadn’t put that on yet. He liked it without the stupid tie, with his top two shirt buttons undone instead. He went into his room and retrieved his choker before heading back into Saeyoung’s room and putting it on in the mirror. He felt his lips curl slightly into a small smile at the familiarity of it. He hadn’t worn it in a while, but it still felt like the one thing that was _his_. He was going to wear it, no matter what Saeyoung said. Maybe it would help him stop feeling so _soft_. If he clung to the small things that made him feel like he was actually worth something and not so weak, maybe he could start trying to figure out his real personality.

Saeran glanced at the clock. It was approaching 11, which meant they would probably have to leave soon to get there in time. As if to confirm this, at that moment Saeyoung stepped into the room. He wore a white shirt with a black waistcoat and a red bowtie, along with a huge, annoying grin on his face.

“Ooh, you’re wearing the choker. Edgy,” he said light-heartedly. Saeran turned back to the mirror and fiddled with his cuffs again.

“Piss off,” he snapped.

“I like it. Are you gonna wear the tie?”

“No.”

“But I chose it especially to match your eyes!” Saeyoung moaned dramatically.

Saeran turned to glare at Saeyoung. “It’s not too late for me to just not go at all.”

Saeyoung responded by simply walking towards him and wrapping his arms around Saeran’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug. Saeran’s body tensed, but he didn’t resist. He’d never admit to anyone that he liked hugs.

“I’m glad you’re coming,” Saeyoung told him before pulling back and smiling at him brightly. Had Saeran not been his twin, he probably wouldn’t have noticed the worry hidden behind his eyes. Was he worried Saeran would ruin the party? Maybe.

They headed there in one of Saeyoung’s bright red sports cars that Saeran didn’t care to learn the make of, and Saeran could feel his heart beating faster and faster as time passed. He glanced at the clock on the dash what felt like every five minutes, but must have actually been every twenty seconds, because the numbers were barely changing.

So, he would finally be meeting the RFA, then. It was a moment that seemed oddly significant – perhaps because he’d spent so long trying to destroy them. He scowled out the car window at the memory. Maybe he should still be trying.

Despite the angry thoughts, the rage and thirst for revenge wasn’t fully present. It was as though they were muffled. Perhaps that was down to the meds, or perhaps it was because he’d met Yoosung, or perhaps even because he was coming to believe that maybe Saeyoung _did_ care about him.

The thought made him sick. Since when had he been so trusting?

After what felt like hours, but in reality was about fifteen minutes, the car pulled into a small car park behind a large building which he assumed was where the party was being held. They saw a tall man getting out the back of what looked like an expensive, black car as they headed towards the building. From his black hair along with the uptight way he carried himself, Saeran deduced that this was the corporate heir, Jumin Han.

“Hey, Jumin!” Saeyoung called out as they walked over to him. Jumin turned to the voice, and Saeran noted the slight surprise in his otherwise unchanging expression as he registered the younger twin walking next to his brother.

“Saeyoung, Saeran,” he greeted them, nodding politely as they came to a stop in front of him. Jumin quickly scanned Saeran with his grey eyes, and he suddenly felt uncomfortable as a thousand thoughts rushed through his head at once. He should have worn that tie. He shouldn’t have decided to wear the choker. He should have dyed his hair back to his natural colour. He should have bought a proper suit and not worn one of Saeyoung’s.

The thoughts pounding through his head of all these things he should and shouldn’t have done came to a halt when he saw Jumin give him a small smile.

“It’s good to meet you properly, Saeran. I’m glad you could make it.”

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to expect and answer, because Saeran didn’t know what to say. They headed through the back door of the building into a large room, decorated with reds and whites and a large stage at the front. As they walked through the door, he saw Minhee standing just in front of the stage looking at a clipboard held by a woman with short, brown hair and glasses. Saeran recognised her as Jaehee Kang.

“Minhee!” Saeyoung called excitedly, and her head snapped up at the sound of his voice. A goofy smile lit up her face and she rushed over to him as he caught her in a hug.

“Saeyoung!”

Ugh. Why were they so gross?

“You must be Saeran,” Jaehee commented brightly once she had reached the group. Saeran gulped nervously as she held out her hand to shake with him. He took it cautiously. “I’m Jaehee Kang. I’m glad you could come!”

She sounded different to Jumin. Perhaps it was because he didn’t show many emotions, but in comparison, Jaehee sounded much more genuine. It was as though she was _actually_ pleased to see him. She hadn’t given him the same up-and-down look that Jumin had, and Saeran found himself feeling more grateful than he had expected he would be.

“Hi,” he answered shortly as they dropped hands.

“Saeran! I’m so glad you decided to come along,” Minhee said, finally having disentangled herself from his brother, still grinning widely. “I’m kind of nervous too.”

“Why?” Saeran snapped before he could stop himself.

“Well, it’s also my first party,” she pointed out. “But I feel like it’ll be good!”

First party…? Oh, right. During the last one she and Saeyoung hadn’t attended because they’d been tracking Saeran down. Great.

“When’s Yoosung getting here?” Saeyoung asked, and Saeran felt his ears involuntarily perk up.

“Oh… I’m not sure. I thought you might know,” Minhee answered, frowning. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon. And Zen, too.”

Zen was the one with the white hair. Right.

Saeran stood awkwardly as the other four chatted. He didn’t really understand why they were here so early. They weren’t even ‘setting up’. Except perhaps Jaehee, who kept checking her phone and scribbling things on her clipboard.

Saeran fiddled with his sleeve and looked around the room, ignoring the conversation. It was nice in here, and he actually felt surprisingly calm, even after meeting two new people. Jumin still unsettled him a little, but he would probably say the same about Saeran. He tugged at his choker self-consciously. He really shouldn’t have worn this.

“Hey guys!” came an enthusiastic and unfamiliar voice from the doorway. Saeran turned to see Yoosung and Zen entering together, both grinning. Saeran dropped his hand from his choker to play with his sleeve instead as Yoosung smiled at him, walking over. He was wearing a navy suit with a white shirt and a pale blue tie. His hair wasn’t clipped back like it usually was, and Saeran briefly remembered that day Yoosung had come over without the hairclips, and noted that both times he had looked older without them.

“Saeran!” he said, sounding genuinely happy. It still confused him as to why he always seemed so pleased to see him. “I’m so glad you’re here! And I like your outfit.”

“It’s Saeyoung’s,” he mumbled, looking down at his feet, suddenly nervous.

“Even the choker?” Yoosung giggled, and Saeran looked up at him, raising his eyebrows. “I’m kidding, it looks too good to be Saeyoung’s.” He turned slightly to the tall, white-haired man standing next to him. “Saeran, this is Zen. Zen, this is Saeran.”

“So you’re the guy Yoosung’s been telling me about,” Zen joked as he slung his arm around Yoosung’s shoulder and winked at Saeran. Saeran was taken aback by the casualness of it all. From what he’d seen in the chatroom, Zen was incredibly confrontational.

“Yoosung?” Saeran questioned, glancing over at the blond who was suddenly blushing.

“Shut up!” he yelled, pushing Zen’s arm from around his shoulder. “You’re making it sound like I talk about him all the time.”

“Whatever,” Zen rolled his eyes and glared at Jumin standing next to him before pointedly walking over to Minhee on the other side of the group. Saeran got the impression he disliked him.

“I really am glad you made it.” Yoosung took a step closer to Saeran as they turned slightly away from the group. It seemed as though they were having their own conversation now rather than getting involved with the rest of the group, which Saeran appreciated because he didn’t want to exhaust himself before the party had even officially begun. His palms were already sweating slightly from nerves, but overall he actually felt less anxious and panicky than he’d expected.

“Thanks,” Saeran said, wiping his hands absently on his trousers and glancing over at the rest of the group. Jumin and Saeyoung were talking about something, Jumin looking vaguely annoyed, and Zen, Minhee and Jaehee were all laughing together. “It’s not so bad.”

“Right?” Yoosung said excitedly. “Everyone’s really nice! Zen’s a little weird though. I don’t talk about you _that_ much.” He giggled nervously and scratched the back of his neck.

“I thought he would be meaner,” Saeran admitted.

“Really? Why?”

“He always seemed so… angry in the chatroom.”

“Oh! That’s only to Jumin,” Yoosung laughed. Huh, he supposed that made sense. Saeran’s eyes drifted over the group. They were a strange bunch of people – all so different from each other yet, somehow, they were still friends. Friendships were strange.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Yoosung said, and Saeran’s head suddenly snapped back to look at Yoosung.

“What?”

“Oh… uh, you just said friendships are weird,” Yoosung stuttered a little.

“I did?” Saeran asked before giving his head a small shake and averting his eyes. “I didn’t realise I said that out loud.”

“That’s okay! You’re totally right. Friendships _are_ weird,” Yoosung stumbled to make Saeran feel less awkward, and Saeran felt a small smile playing on his lips. A smile? Saeran didn’t smile, especially not in front of other people.

For the next twenty or so minutes, until about quarter to twelve, they pretty much just stood around doing nothing. Jaehee and Minhee were the only ones who seemed to actually be attempting to sort things out with the guest list, but everything else appeared to be pretty much ready. When the two women left to stand by the door and greet people as they arrived, Saeran felt his anxiety start kicking in. He had thought he would be fine around strangers, but a room _this_ huge being busy would probably kick something off. He had taken his meds this morning, and he knew some were for anxiety so he hoped they could hold off anything terrible, but he was already shaking a little.

“Hey,” Yoosung whispered. “If you ever need to step outside for a moment, just let me know and I’ll come with you.”

Saeran nodded. Honestly, he probably could have just gone outside by himself, but he figured he should at least humour Yoosung. And he did like hugs, anyway.

Suddenly, Saeran was thinking about hugging Yoosung. Had they hugged before? Saeran couldn’t remember… he didn’t think so. He wondered what hugging Yoosung would be like. Would he be a good hugger? The only person he’d ever been hugged by was Saeyoung, so he supposed he didn’t have much to go on, but that didn’t really matter.

Yoosung’s eyes met his for a moment and Saeran quickly looked away. He hadn’t realised he’d been staring. He felt his face heat up slightly and clenched his fists, looking down at the floor. These stupid nerves were making him feel all sorts of things.

As it turned out, the party started off pretty slowly which gave Saeran time to adjust to the new people. He quickly realised the choker and bleached hair _had_ been a good call, because it meant people weren’t approaching him as he stood with his back against the wall with Yoosung.

Saeran hadn’t been sure what to expect from the party, but he certainly hadn’t expected there to be people who looked like butlers walking around with trays of champagne. Wasn’t this supposed to be for charity? How much money had they spent on the party itself? Yoosung grabbed a glass from one of the trays, but Saeran just shook his head to decline.

“You don’t drink?” Yoosung asked as the butler-type-person walked away.

“No,” Saeran answered, watching as Saeyoung and Zen chatted to a simple looking guy with brown hair wearing a hoodie. That didn’t seem like typical party attire. “I’m not supposed to.”

“Why?” Yoosung asked, taking a sip of his champagne.

“I’ll vomit it straight back up along with my meds.”

“Ohhhh!” Yoosung said, covering his hand with his mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t think.”

“That’s fine.” Saeran shook his head. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was reassuring Yoosung. It didn’t really matter, after all.

As time passed and Saeran remained standing at the edge of the room, he wondered what the point of him being here was. It had been fine at first, because no one was talking to him, but it was starting to get uncomfortable. Looking at the large clock on the wall told him it had only been half an hour, but it felt like so much longer.

“Who do you think that is?” Yoosung asked, cocking his head and pointing at the guy in the hoodie who Saeyoung had been talking to earlier. Saeran shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think he’s Saeyoung’s neighbourhood friend, Tom, he sometimes talks about?”

“Could be,” Saeran murmured, looking down and fiddling with his sleeves again. There was a small pause before Yoosung spoke again.

“It’s cute when you do that.”

Saeran’s head jolted to stare at Yoosung. “What?”

“That,” Yoosung specified, gesturing vaguely to Saeran’s hand playing with his sleeve.

“Cute?” Saeran raised an eyebrow, and Yoosung gulped and looked away.

“In a punk rock way, of course,” he said, attempting to make a joke out of it.

Saeran was at a loss for words. How much had Yoosung drunk? Saeran thought he was only on his second glass, but he was considering the possibility it may have been a few more.

At that moment, a stranger decided to approach the two boys. She had long, dark hair with her lips painted red and a dress to match.

“Hey,” she greeted them both, but it was clearly aimed more towards Saeran. He instantly got an uneasy vibe from her.

“Hey!” Yoosung replied, and she glanced at him for a moment.

“I haven’t seen you at an RFA party before,” she said to Saeran. “Are you a new member?”

“Yeah,” Saeran answered, feeling his eyes slide to look at Yoosung for a second. She was standing pretty close to him, and it made him slightly uncomfortable, especially considering how low cut her dress was.

“How cool! I’m Nafrini, by the way. It’s good to meet you,” she introduced herself, holding out her hand. Saeran tentatively shook it, and she held it slightly longer than was necessary. “Jumin Han and Zen both kissed my hand when I shook with them,” she suggested lightly, smiling at him, looking up at him from under her thick lashes.

“That’s nice of them,” Saeran murmured before she finally dropped his hand, albeit disappointedly.

“What’s your name?” she pressed, and Saeran felt his chest start tightening a little. She was too close, and she kept leaning even closer.

“I’m Yoosung, and this is Saeran,” Yoosung told her, thankfully saving Saeran from having to speak. She glanced at Yoosung, and Saeran thought she looked slightly annoyed and the smile fell from her face for a second.

“Saeran’s a nice name,” she observed, slipping back into her smile.

“So is Yoosung,” Saeran blurted before he really considered what he was saying. It didn’t really matter, though. She was still persistent.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” she nodded thoughtfully. “Did you know my name means ‘she brings beauty’ in Egyptian?”

“Huh,” was all Saeran responded with. He could feel his breath starting to quicken slightly, and he was suddenly hyperaware of how many strangers there were clumped together between him and the exit.

“I’m Egyptian,” she clarified.

“Ok,” he replied, and he heard Nafrini sigh as she pressed her hand against the wall next to him before leaning in closer to his body. The smell of her perfume was overwhelming.

“I think you’re hot,” she told him bluntly, and he gulped, feeling a sheen of sweat break out across his forehead. She giggled in a way he might have found endearing if he wasn’t on the verge of having an anxiety attack. “And cute. You dress all edgy, but you’re actually really nervous. It’s okay.” She leaned a little closer, sticking her chest out, but Saeran didn’t take his eyes from her face. He was almost certain if he looked down he would see more than he bargained for.

“He’s not interested,” snapped a strangely cold voice from beside him. He felt a hand grab hold of his wrist and tug slightly, pulling him away and allowing him to slip out from between the wall and this woman. Saeran didn’t even look back as he stumbled behind the person who’d grabbed him. He didn’t even know where he was going. He needed to get out. He looked up through his blurry vision and saw it was Yoosung who was leading him, and almost choked with relief.

Eventually, he practically fell out a door and into the cool air, hearing it slam behind him. His breaths were catching in his throat, causing him to emit some kind of strange rasping noise. His entire body was shaking, and he felt Yoosung grip hold of his other wrist too as the tears streamed down his face.

“Saeran… Saeran…”

He could hear his name being repeated through the buzzing in his ears as he stumbled forwards slightly, but Yoosung’s grip on his wrists was strong. Saeran clenched his fists in an attempt to hold himself together, but his breathing wouldn’t slow down. His heart felt as though it had made its way to his throat and was blocking his airways. His head was spinning. His entire body felt as though it would freeze if it weren’t for the burning hot grip on his wrists.

He hated himself. He hated himself for reacting like this. He was _stupid_ and _overreacting_ and he was quickly realising he would never be able to become a normal part of society, no matter how hard he tried.

Suddenly, the grip on his wrists fell away, and he started to whine in protest before he felt himself being pulled against Yoosung’s chest as he wrapped his arms around him so Saeran’s head was buried in his shoulder.

He heard a yell from behind him, and felt Yoosung’s chest vibrate as he spoke, but Saeran couldn’t make out the words. His brain wasn’t working. All he could hear was that fucking ringing sound and all he could see were his fucking tears and all he could feel was his fucking body shaking and all he could taste was fucking panic and all he could smell was…

 _Yoosung_.

He clutched hold of Yoosung’s shirt and breathed in his scent, trying to use it to ground himself and stop fucking crying. He felt his breaths slowing slightly and all his senses became a little more muffled as he inhaled Yoosung’s scent. He didn’t know why it was comforting, but the smell of his aftershave along with something else that was just so _Yoosung_ helped him to realise who he was and where he was and what really mattered.

He blinked away some of his tears and leaned back slowly, so Yoosung’s hands slid to rest on his shoulders. Through the fuzziness he could see a look of worry in Yoosung’s purple eyes, as well as the shape of his brother standing just behind him, looking equally as worried. When had he got here?

“Take him home.” The words slipped through into Saeran’s ears and he blinked, looking between Yoosung and Saeyoung in a way that must have looked utterly pathetic.

He felt Yoosung’s hands leave his shoulders before one of them loosely gripped his wrist. It wasn’t enough. The contact wasn’t against Saeran’s skin. He needed to feel Yoosung’s skin. He slid his arm up so his hand fell into Yoosung’s, and after a moment’s hesitation, there was a small squeeze and then he was being led towards the bright red of Saeyoung’s car.

Saeran felt Yoosung pull his hand away, and yelled out “No!” but Yoosung gently guided him into the passenger seat of the car before shutting the door and running to the other side to get in.

“It’s okay! You’ll be okay! I’m taking you home!” Yoosung sounded panicked, but Saeran could feel himself calming down now that he was in a more enclosed, private space without the risk of anyone else seeing him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly as he pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face in them.

“Don’t be! She was being nasty,” Yoosung reassured him, and paused for a moment before reminding him. “Saeran, you need to put on your seatbelt.”

“Oh,” Saeran turned a little and yanked his seatbelt, moving his legs to put it on properly. His hands were shaking too hard to do it up. After his fourth attempt, he felt Yoosung’s soft hand rest on his again.

“Let me do it,” he offered gently, and Saeran allowed him to do it instead.

“Why did Saeyoung give you his car?” Saeran asked in a shaky voice, hugging his knees to his chest again as Yoosung pulled out of the parking space and drove onto the main road.

“So I can take you home.”

The answer was good enough for Saeran. He rest his cheek against his knees as he looked out the window, the after-effects of his sobs shaking through his body as he watched the clouds changing in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so much for your continued support. getting comments and kudos really does mean the world to me! <3


	10. intrude and exclude

**_saeran_ **

Once the car had slowed to a stop, Saeran still didn’t move. He heard as the engine cut off and Yoosung shifted, opening the door and stepping out. After a few moments the door on Saeran’s side opened, and he looked up at Yoosung who was standing there, silhouetted by the lights of the garage. Yoosung’s hand was outstretched for him to take, so he slowly lowered his knees to the ground and unfastened his seatbelt before reaching out and grasping hold of Yoosung’s hand to pull himself up.

Suddenly he was hit with the realisation of what had happened. He’d made Yoosung leave the party early, and he felt his grip tighten on the other boy’s hand as the guilt washed over him.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised breathlessly as Yoosung gently tugged him away from the car so he could shut the door. His knees were shaking.

“You don’t need to keep apologising,” Yoosung told him firmly. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I made you leave early.”

“I don’t care, I’d rather help you,” Yoosung told him as they headed to the front door. Saeran jolted to a stop next to him when Yoosung froze once they reached it. “Wait, do you know Arabic?”

“No. Why do you need…?” Saeran trailed off, looking confusedly at Yoosung.

“Wait, I’ll call Saeyoung,” Yoosung said, dropping Saeran’s hand to pull his phone from his pocket and tapped a few buttons before pressing it against his ear. Why did Yoosung need to know Arabic all of a sudden? “Saeyoung! We just got back and I was wondering how to open the door,” Yoosung spoke into his phone. Saeran looked at the large metal door with a keypad. If Yoosung didn’t know how to open it, he could probably override the security somehow.

There was a short pause as Saeyoung spoke before Yoosung said a quick ‘thank you’ and hung up. He smiled at Saeran sheepishly.

“The security’s a little confusing,” he admitted.

“Oh,” Saeran replied, folding his arms across his chest as he realised he was still shaking. He suddenly missed the feeling of Yoosung’s hand in his own.

“Door unlocked,” came a robotic female voice, and Yoosung reached out and carefully pushed it open, breathing a sigh of relief once it swung open with ease. They stepped inside, closing the door behind them, and Yoosung immediately ran towards Saeyoung’s room.

“Just sit down! I’ll be right back!” he promised.

Saeran headed to the sofa and sat down on it, crossing his legs and fiddling with his sleeves as the anxiety continued to drift around his body, poking at his throat. It was still there, but luckily it was little more than a minor annoyance now.

Yoosung had said it was cute when he fiddled with his sleeves. What had he meant by that? Had he been trying to compliment him or insult him? Then he remembered something.

Yoosung hurried back into the room and Saeran turned to look at him.

“You were drinking,” Saeran pointed out. Yoosung headed to the sofa, and Saeran realised he was carrying a blanket which he carefully placed on his shoulders. Saeran liked feeling the warmth of Yoosung’s hands.

“Yeah,” Yoosung confirmed uncertainly, lifting his hands from Saeran’s shoulders and sitting next to him.

“And then you drove.”

“Oh… I didn’t drink that much.” Yoosung smiled, folding his hands in his lap and tapping his finger on his thigh slightly. Saeran found himself staring, and gulped.

“Can I…?” he let the question trail away and tore his eyes from Yoosung’s hands. “Never mind.”

“Can you what?” Yoosung asked, turning his body towards Saeran, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. “Do you need me to get you something?”

“N-no, it’s fine,” Saeran stumbled over his words.

“Tell me,” Yoosung pressed softly, and Saeran looked up into his eyes for a moment before dropping them again and fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.

“I… can I hold your hand again?” he mumbled. There was a small pause, and Saeran wondered how badly he’d fucked up. “Sorry, I-”

He was interrupted by Yoosung’s fingers lacing themselves through his, and Saeran looked at him in shock as Yoosung smiled back a little nervously. Saeran could feel his breathing getting quicker along with his heartrate, but it felt different this time. Less panicked.

“It’s okay,” Yoosung reassured him, and there was a short, comfortable pause. Saeran could feel his palm sweating slightly, and he hoped Yoosung hadn’t noticed. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” Saeran felt his grip tighten on Yoosung’s hand, and Yoosung squeezed back reassuringly. “It’s okay, we don’t have to.”

“There isn’t really much to say,” Saeran shrugged, letting his head fall slightly so Yoosung couldn’t see him staring at their interlocked hands. What was this? What was he doing?

“Sometimes it’s better to get everything out and talk about how you’re feeling,” Yoosung said softly. Saeran gulped.

“I don’t know,” Saeran admitted. “I’m scared.”

And he was. It was as though holding hands with Yoosung had smashed down some of the walls he’d built around his emotions.

“That’s okay.”

“I’m feeling… everything,” Saeran choked out. “I’m not used to feeling things that aren’t anger, but I’m feeling so many different things that I can’t keep track of them all.” He paused, and clutched hold of the blanket against his chest, continuing in a small, pathetic voice. “Every morning when I wake up, I have no idea how I’m going to feel that day, and even then all it takes is the smallest thing to trigger a whole shitstorm of other emotions.”

Yoosung paused for a moment to absorb his words. “And… that woman. She triggered something else?”

Saeran nodded, still staring at their joined hands. His hands were scarred and rough while Yoosung’s were soft and smooth. “I was feeling okay. I was nervous, but I was okay. And then she came over and I just… I don’t know what happened.”

“She was pushy.” Yoosung sighed. “I think anyone would have been uncomfortable.”

“It’s not just that,” Saeran blurted out, shaking his head in frustration at his lack of understanding of his own emotions. It was as if his words didn’t have a filter today, and he was just spilling all his emotions out onto Yoosung. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel paranoid that Yoosung would abandon or betray him. “It wasn’t just that I was uncomfortable. It’s like… the thought of her… the thought of what she wanted…a relationship, or whatever. It made me feel like I might vomit.”

“Really?” Yoosung sounded a little surprised.

“I’m too fucked up. I’ve never felt for anyone in _that_ way in my life,” Saeran mumbled, and then felt himself frowning. Why did that feel like a lie?

“Oh… really?” Yoosung asked.

Finally, Saeran looked up at Yoosung, staring into his eyes.

“Why did that feel like a lie?” Saeran asked, more to himself than to Yoosung. “It’s true… I’ve never had feelings…” he trailed off and he felt his face scrunch up a little, and he looked away from Yoosung again. Why was it so difficult to maintain eye contact?

“You’ve never been with anyone?” Yoosung pressed.

“Not with emotions involved.” Saeran shook his head, his free hand finding its way to his hair and tugging at it slightly to ground himself. He could feel a strange feeling bubbling inside him, but it was one he hadn’t felt before. He felt as though he was on the verge of flipping into a new mood, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

“What do you mean?” Yoosung asked.

“I’ve _been_ with people… at Mint Eye,” Saeran said vaguely. “It was recreation, though. A release of some kind. I didn’t feel anything except anger with that medicine, so that’s just what people did.”

“That’s horrible,” Yoosung choked out, and when Saeran looked up at him again there were tears in his eyes.

“Don’t cry,” he said, sounding surprised. He hadn’t expected Yoosung to cry. That was just how things had been.

“It is, though,” Yoosung blinked at him, and Saeran noticed his lower lip was trembling slightly. “That’s _awful_. The things they did to you…” he trailed off. A tear rolled down his cheek, and Yoosung wiped it away angrily with his sleeve. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be crying. I’m supposed to be helping you,”

Saeran’s mouth opened but no sound came out. As though moving of its own accord, he felt his arm raise up and he pressed two of his fingers to Yoosung’s cheek, wiping away another tear which had fallen. He felt his breath catch in his throat, and that ‘new mood’ that he felt as though he was on the edge of inched even closer. He was dangerously close to falling over the edge of it, but he found he didn’t mind.

Yoosung was staring at him with wide eyes as Saeran dropped his hand back into his lap, and this time he felt as though he couldn’t have broken eye contact if he tried.

“What is this?” he whispered to himself.

“Whatever you want it to be,” Yoosung said just as softly, his voice shaking slightly. Saeran blinked once, twice, three times.

“What…?” His voice trailed off. This feeling was getting closer, trying desperately to push itself into his brain. Saeran wasn’t certain he wanted to stop it. “I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

The intensity in Yoosung’s eyes was tangible, and he felt as though he could taste it in the air. His eyes dropped to Yoosung’s slightly parted lips, noticing his breaths coming out in short, sharp pants. He tightened his fingers around Yoosung’s and raised his free hand to Yoosung’s face again, seeing if that pushed the feeling closer. He pressed the tips of his fingers against his slightly damp cheek, and felt his chest tightening, but not in the bad way it did when he was about to have a panic attack. This felt different. It felt… _good?_

He looked down at their linked hands and lifted them slightly, pulling them towards his face and pressing the back of Yoosung’s hand against his cheek. It was soft and calming and intensified this feeling inside him. When he looked up to Yoosung’s face again, he saw that his eyes were closed. Saeran frowned slightly.

“Do you not want to look at me?” Saeran asked, his voice softer than he’d expected.

“No… I just…” Yoosung gulped, still not opening his eyes. “I’ve been dreaming about this.”

“This?”

“Mmhm.” Yoosung nodded a little and leaned his head into Saeran’s hand so Saeran was cupping his cheek instead of just brushing it with his fingertips.

“W-why would you dream of this?” Saeran stuttered, his voice catching in his throat. Yoosung finally opened his eyes, and the look in them took Saeran’s breath straight from his lungs. Their faces were an inch or so apart, and Saeran couldn’t remember when they’d got so close. He could feel his knee brushing against Yoosung’s hip, and he shuffled slightly to face him completely.

Yoosung didn’t answer his question, instead leaning in a little closer so their noses brushed. Saeran felt a shiver throughout his entire body, and he pressed Yoosung’s hand against his face harder as the feeling threatened to explode at any given second.

He could feel Yoosung’s warm breath brushing his lips, and he felt his eyes flutter closed as one of them – or perhaps both, he couldn’t tell – tilted their head, allowing their noses to slide past each other.

Saeran could feel the warmth growing in his chest as he leaned the rest of the way. When he felt his lips gently touch against Yoosung’s, the warmth exploded and the feeling was released. Saeran could barely breathe as Yoosung pressed closer and he felt his hand slide from Yoosung’s cheek to his neck.

He could feel everything. Yoosung’s pulse beneath his fingers, Yoosung’s shivers whenever he moved slightly, Yoosung’s irregular breaths coming from his nose and dancing against Saeran’s face.

Yoosung’s lips were soft and warm and made him feel safe. They made him feel like he was finally worth something. Like all he needed was Yoosung to help him through all the shit.

They were barely moving, but Saeran’s breath was becoming more and more laboured as though he were doing some kind of intense exercise. He gasped slightly when he felt Yoosung’s lips part, allowing them to fall into a different kind of kiss. One which took away Saeran’s breath even more than the last one.

Their mouths moved in time with each other, both torturously and blissfully slowly at the same time. He felt Yoosung’s tongue brush against his own, and Saeran felt as though his entire body might explode from the heat rushing through it. He had never tasted something so satisfying in his life. He couldn’t remember when his other hand had let go of Yoosung’s and cupped the other side of his neck, brushing his thumb along his jawline and earlobe gently as Yoosung’s hands gripped hold of Saeran’s shirt to pull him closer. He could hear their shallow breaths during their short gasps for air whenever their mouths parted momentarily in the kiss. Yoosung let out a small noise, and the sound soaked through Saeran’s skin, making him shiver and attempt to pull him closer.

Saeran felt as though his chest was going to explode, but he never wanted to stop. He’d kissed people before, but it had never been this intense. Never this, quite literally, breath-taking.

There was no way he could fake the emotions he was feeling right now, and there was no way Yoosung could be either.

Eventually, he had no choice but to pull back for air, or he felt his lungs might explode. Their faces remained millimetres apart and Saeran could feel Yoosung’s breaths were just as heavy as his own.

They didn’t speak for what could have been hours but was probably just a few minutes, not wanting to shatter the moment. Time was irrelevant here, and Saeran could still feel the warmth of Yoosung’s neck under his hands and their bodies close together.

He slowly opened his eyes to see Yoosung’s already open and staring back at him, lidded as though he had just woken up from a dream.

Suddenly it all came rushing back to Saeran like a burst of cold air, and he jerked back, breaking all physical contact with Yoosung. Panic shot through his veins and he stumbled backwards, almost falling off the sofa.

_No no no no no._

What had he done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .......sorry


	11. there's no you and me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one's short, but it's important.

**_yoosung_ **

Yoosung watched as Saeran’s expression flipped, and felt his own, blissful mood flip to panic along with it.

“What?? What is it?!” Yoosung asked, reaching out to Saeran in an attempt to grab hold of his wrists and calm him down as he backed away from him on the sofa. His lips were still tingling from the kiss, but the look of panic on Saeran’s face was enough to make any other lingering feelings from it disappear.

“Don’t touch me!” Saeran screamed, yanking the blanket from his shoulders and throwing it to the floor as he stood up. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

“Saeran, what’s wrong?” Yoosung could feel his lower lip trembling and tears filling his eyes. The sudden absence of Saeran’s body heat close to his felt harsher than he would have expected it to, and he felt himself shiver at the cold.

Had he done something wrong? Had he been a bad kisser? Had Saeran not been ready? Had he not wanted to do it at all? Had Yoosung read him entirely wrong? He had been so certain from the look in Saeran’s shining, green eyes that he had wanted it just as much as him, but now he was second guessing everything he’d ever known.

_“Every morning when I wake up, I have no idea how I’m going to feel that day, and even then all it takes is the smallest thing to trigger a whole shitstorm of other emotions.”_

No. Saeran _had_ wanted it. He was just freaking out because he was afraid of trusting people and was probably suddenly being barrelled with a thousand different feelings he didn’t know how to deal with. Yoosung needed to help him through it, and he reached out to touch his arm, but Saeran jerked it away.

“Don’t… don’t _fucking_ come near me!” Saeran screamed, grabbing a half-full glass from the table that must have been left there this morning and throwing it hard against the wall. It shattered loudly, and the pieces fell to the floor. Yoosung let out an involuntary sob, and Saeran turned towards him. There was nothing but blind rage in his expression as he stormed over to Yoosung and grabbed him by his collar, yanking him up. Their faces were only millimetres apart, but this time feeling Saeran’s breath against his face didn’t make him want to kiss him. He wasn’t scared of Saeran hurting him physically, but he was so worried he felt like he might vomit. “Get the fuck out.”

“Saeran, please-”

“Stop saying my name!” he screamed, not letting go of Yoosung’s collar. “Stop it! I can’t just fucking _kiss_ you. What the _fuck?_ ” Saeran was getting hysterical now, his eyes clouding over as he shook Yoosung with jerking movements. He recognised the look in his eyes from the time he’d seen him break down the first time they’d met. He tried to reach to hug him, but as soon as his hands touched Saeran’s arms, he was shoved roughly back down onto the sofa. Yoosung instantly jumped back up and chased him as he stormed to his room.

“Saeran, please! Let’s talk about this!”

“ _This?_ ” he shrieked, waving his arms wildly. “There is no _this._ There is no _us_. I don’t know why I fucking kissed you back, but I shouldn’t have. You’re disgusting and pathetic and I hate you.” The words were loud and harsh, but so frantic and scattered that Yoosung could convince himself they weren’t genuine if he focused hard enough on not letting himself pick them apart like he usually would.

“No, you don’t! Listen to me!” Yoosung grabbed hold of Saeran’s wrist, spinning him round as he was about to kick open the door to his room.

“No! I’m done listening to you. I’m done with you and your pathetic quest to try and ‘fix _’_ me. _Done._ I never want to see you again. I just want you to fucking leave and never come back.”

“P-please,” Yoosung stammered, his voice cracking. How was he supposed to snap Saeran out of this? It wasn’t _him_. He knew it wasn’t. He knew he’d messed up with the kiss, but he knew Saeran didn’t mean anything he was saying.

That didn’t stop it from hurting though.

“Listen.” Saeran had finally stopped shouting, his voice dropping to a low, more threatening tone as he yanked his wrist out of Yoosung’s grip and placed his hands on his shoulders. “I don’t care about you. I never will. I don’t care if you care about me, I don’t want to fucking know about it. I just want you to leave and forget about me and never come back.”

“No you don’t!” Yoosung could feel himself getting hysterical now, and he attempted to calm himself down, closing his eyes before he spoke again. “Please don’t push me away.”

“I can’t push you away. We were never close in the first place,” Saeran snapped.

“We kissed,” Yoosung said as calmly as he could, but he heard his voice crack in the middle.

“So? I’ve kissed lots of people.” Saeran had gone from shrieking to snapping to just sounding bored in the space of a few minutes, and Yoosung wasn’t sure which was worse.

“I haven’t,” Yoosung told him in a small voice. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

Saeran snorted humourlessly. “Congratulations on your first kiss. Would you like a fucking handjob to go with that?”

“Please,” Yoosung begged. His eyes were still closed, but he could feel tears trickling down his face from under his lids. “Please don’t… please don’t say that. Don’t cheapen it like that.”

“Or maybe a blowjob? Hell, why don’t we go all out and I fuck you right here and now? Would you like that?” Saeran’s voice was rising again, getting faster and louder making Yoosung want to clasp his hands over his ears to block it all out.

_This isn’t the real Saeran._

Yoosung steeled his face and opened his eyes, not letting the words hit him. He _knew_ Saeran didn’t mean any of it.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Yoosung spoke more calmly than he could have hoped. Despite the dead look in them, Yoosung found that looking into Saeran’s mint-green eyes helped soothe his panic, even if it was only by a small amount. “What I’d like is to talk to you.”

Saeran studied him closely, and Yoosung felt his heart stutter for a moment. He thought back to Saeran’s words before the kiss.

_“I’m feeling so many different things that I can’t keep track of them all.”_

It wasn’t his fault. Saeran’s mood swings were not his fault.

“Go on then,” Saeran spoke in a dry voice, dropping his hands from Yoosung’s shoulders and crossing them in front of his chest. “Talk to me.”

Yoosung gulped.

“I…I have feelings for you,” he admitted, looking down at his feet and running his fingers through his hair as his nerves threatened to make him throw up. This could make things worse, but he had to try _something_. He couldn’t just let Saeran feel this way. “I think I have for a while now, but I only realised recently. I wasn’t… I wasn’t going to do anything about it. I just wanted to be your friend, but just then… I guess I felt like you might feel the same. I didn’t want to push it in case you weren’t ready but I… I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”

There was a pause as Saeran processed the words.

“It’s a shame I’m not interested in you,” he spoke smoothly, the words slicing through Yoosung like knives. “I don’t care about your feelings. All I want right now is for you to get the fuck out of this house.”

“Why did you kiss me back?” Yoosung demanded suddenly as he stared determinedly into Saeran’s eyes. “And you didn’t just kiss me back. I could _feel_ it, Saeran. I could _feel_ that you wanted to. No one can fake emotions like that.”

Saeran leaned forwards slightly, and Yoosung felt his breath catch in his throat.

“I guess I can.”

“No!” Yoosung protested. “No! It wasn’t fake! It was _real_ , Saeran. I _know_ it was!”

“None of it was real. You don’t know anything. I don’t give a shit about you, so get the fuck out.”

Yoosung almost screamed in frustration. He knew he should keep his cool right now, but he didn’t care. He wanted Saeran to know how much he meant to him.

“I care about you so much, Saeran,” he jabbed his finger into Saeran’s chest, and noted his green eyes widen in surprise at his sudden boldness. “I really do. I want to be with you in any way I can, friendship or otherwise. I want to _help_ you. I want to spend time with you and watch you laugh and be happy. This isn’t just about me ‘fixing’ you!” His voice was getting higher and higher in his desperation. “I care about you more than you could ever even know, and I’ve never felt this way about _anyone_ before. Please, Saeran… don’t push me away…”

Saeran stepped forwards, staring directly into Yoosung’s eyes with a hard expression. “I don’t care about you. I never have and I never will. Get. Out.”

Yoosung choked back a sob. “Fine,” he whispered, spinning on his heels and heading to the door. He angrily wiped his tears away with his sleeves as he stormed out the building.

He knew in his heart he shouldn’t believe Saeran’s words, but the bubbling insecurities started seeping through the cracks in his defense. Why the hell would someone like Saeran ever care about him? Just because it had felt genuine, didn’t mean it truly was. He had been too hopeful.

Yoosung pressed his fists into his eyes, trying to ignore the taste of Saeran on his lips and the memory of Saeran’s gentle hands caressing his jaw and the urge which told him just how much he wanted to kiss him again.

What the fuck was he supposed to do?


	12. heartache and heartbreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I looked at the kudos on this fic and realised that my three favourite fanfiction authors of ALL TIME (one of them I didn't even know was in the mysme fandom?? but yeah that one has written my absolute fav fic ever that got me back into writing and stuff so w o w) have left kudos for ME and I honestly feel so achieved right now but I'm lowkey trying not to be annoying (probably failing at that sorry)  
> there are lots of italics in this chapter for _emphasis_

**_saeran_ **

Yoosung’s face flashed through his mind. How heartbroken he had looked as Saeran had exploded and screamed at him. The tears that had filled his eyes and rolled down his cheek, and the way his lips – the lips Saeran had been kissing only seconds earlier – trembled as he tried to stop himself from breaking.

He. Did. Not. Give. A. Shit. About. Yoosung. Kim.

He didn’t care about him. At all. He couldn’t care about him even if he’d wanted to, because that would mean _trusting_ him which would mean _opening up_ and talking about his _feelings_. Better to just cut him off before either of them got too attached.

He screamed into his pillow, scratching at his arms desperately in an attempt to draw blood. All he could see was red. Blood and guts and rage and anger and death and love…

 _NO_. Not love. Never love. He didn’t care he didn’t care he didn’t care.

Yoosung would only hurt him. Or he would hurt Yoosung. Either way _someone_ would get hurt, and when he thought back to the way Yoosung had been crying and trying so desperately to stay strong and reasonable, Saeran figured he already _had_ hurt him. He had probably broken him entirely.

He’d been his first kiss – not that he fucking cared. His own first kiss had been with some fucking disciple at Mint Eye, and he could barely even remember it from all the medicine he’d been drugged up on. It didn’t fucking matter. Nothing fucking mattered.

He could feel his brain shattering as he remembered how Yoosung had looked at him. He jolted upright on his bed so fast he got a head rush, and leaned over the edge of it to throw up. All he managed to do was dry heave over the edge as a trail of saliva and phlegm trailed from his lips. He spat all the spit in his mouth onto his floor, trying desperately to get rid of it – to get rid of the taste of Yoosung – but it just kept building up and he was still _there_. He could taste Yoosung’s tongue in his mouth and hear Yoosung’s pulse throbbing under his fingers and feel Yoosung’s breath brushing against his face. Fuck _off_. He didn’t _need_ any of it. It had all been a fucking stupid mistake and he never deserved him anyway.

He had hurt him. He hoped he’d destroyed him and scared him from coming back, but knowing Yoosung, he was just going to make his way straight back to him and beg to ‘fix’ this, meaning Saeran would have to destroy him all over again. He didn’t _want_ to, but he _had_ to.

No… he _did_ want to. Of course he did. The only reason he was shoving him away was so he could avoid getting hurt and betrayed all over again. Yoosung wasn’t like a dog, as he’d thought before. He was a manipulative and disgusting person, just like his cousin. He _adored_ her. He wanted to be _just_ like her. He thought he was a _good judge of character,_ yet he put her on this fucking pedestal that no one else would ever reach. If it came down to it, Yoosung would choose Rika over Saeran. He fucking _knew_ it.

Saeran did not have feelings for Yoosung Kim. He didn’t fucking care about him at all. He wanted to rip out his eyeballs at the thought of Yoosung ‘having feelings’ for him, and so he dug his fingernails into his face and screamed.

He suddenly felt so fucking dirty in these clothes. Saeyoung’s clothes. He had been wearing a traitor’s clothes while kissing another traitor and he _hadn’t even thought twice about either._ He had let his guard down. He couldn’t fucking do that again. He ripped off the jacket and shirt, buttons popping out and rolling across the room. Maybe he should swallow them and choke on them – that would be a good fucking idea. He ripped off his choker and threw it across the room, not even bothering to look as it smashed into the wall and fell limply to the floor. He tore off his shoes and trousers too, not caring when he heard them rip at the seams. He threw everything on the floor and leaned over them as he retched heavily in an attempt to throw all this fucking betrayal up and get it out of his system. But nothing came out. He shoved his finger down his throat and hit his gag reflex, but even that didn’t work. He just ended up coughing up more phlegm, which he spat on the pile of clothes.

He screamed again, the sound echoing through the house and his mind as he realised what a _fucking idiot_ he had been. There was no fucking point denying it anymore. He _did_ have feelings for Yoosung. He had _liked_ their kiss in a way that was more than simply selfish pleasure. He had wanted to make Yoosung feel good too. It hadn’t just been a hot and heavy mess which had ended in another hatefuck, like all his kisses at Mint Eye had. He had liked feeling _close_ and _intimate_ to Yoosung, and the thought made him tear at his hair.

He still couldn’t be with him. He thought about how fucking much he’d hurt him today. That would not and never would be a healthy relationship. Saeran could never be in a healthy relationship. He was too toxic as a person.

He heard himself scream again, and suddenly there was a crash as his bedroom door slammed open and he felt someone grab hold of him. He screamed and lashed out for the person to let go, but they refused. He flailed his limbs, and felt his fist collide with something hard and the person’s grip faltered slightly but didn’t let go of his arms.

“Get the fuck _off me!_ ” he screamed. “You’re a fucking _traitor!_ Everyone’s a fucking _traitor!_ ”

“Saeran!” yelled the voice, and he recognised it as Saeyoung’s.

“No!” he was still screaming and lashing about, but Saeyoung’s grip didn’t budge. “Let go of me! I’m too fucking dangerous for anyone to be around, I need to just fucking _die!”_

“Saeran, please!” Saeyoung yelled over him, and Saeran brought his arm to his mouth, biting down hard in an attempt to relieve some of his emotional pain. “Just listen to me!” Saeyoung tried tugging Saeran’s arm from his mouth, but he wouldn’t move it. He wasn’t lashing around anymore, but he was panting heavily through his nose and glaring at his brother so intensely he felt like his eyes might pop out of their sockets. “What happened? You _have_ to tell me, because Yoosung seemed pretty fucking upset too.”

Saeran bit his arm harder to stop himself screaming again and tasted blood. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt sharp tears stabbing at his eyes. He could feel his resolve crumbling, and tried desperately to catch it as it sipped straight through his fingers.

“Saeran,” Saeyoung spoke more softly now. “Please. I can help.”

Saeran ripped his arm from his mouth, not caring about the line of bloody saliva that fell on his chin and down his bare chest. “No you fucking can’t!” he tried to yell, but his voice was hoarse, and cracked when he swore. “You can’t fucking fix this. I fucked it up. I fucked _everything_ up.”

“I have no idea what happened, but listen to me,” Saeyoung told him firmly. “Yoosung will forgive you. He’s the most forgiving person I know, and he likes you Saeran. He cares about you.”

“That’s exactly the problem!” Saeran couldn’t scream, and his voice came out like a sob as the tears poured down his face. “He _shouldn’t_ forgive me. He _shouldn’t_ care about me or like me at all. He should fucking _run_.” Saeran choked on a sob before continuing, the words pouring out of him as though he were unable to stop them. “He’s too fucking good. I’m bad. I’m evil. I’ll corrupt him if he cares or gets too close. I already broke him so he’d leave and I don’t want to have to fucking break him again. I care about him and I _fucking shouldn’t_ , okay? I should have pushed him as far away as I fucking could right from the start, but now he’s all I can hear and smell and feel and taste and I can’t ever forget any of it!” Saeran gripped his hair and collapsed to the floor, forcing Saeyoung down with him as he tightened his grip on his arms. “I can’t forget how it felt and how much I liked it and how much I want to do it again but I _can’t._ ”

“Saeran,” Saeyoung said, his voice surprisingly soft. “What happened?”

Saeran looked up into his twin’s golden eyes and gulped down the lump in his throat. He noticed that Saeyoung’s glasses were broken and hanging off his face slightly, but he wasn’t trying to fix them. There was blood on the bridge of his nose, and Saeran figured that must have been what he’d punched before.

“I kissed him,” Saeran admitted, and he saw the brief shock flash through Saeyoung’s eyes. “Or… he kissed me. I don’t remember which way round it was, but we kissed and I can’t stop thinking about it, but I _can’t_ care about him because I’m going to _hurt_ him or he’s going to _leave_ me-”

“Listen to me,” Saeyoung said firmly. “If you care about him, you can’t let him go. Trust me.”

“How would _you_ fucking know how I feel?” Saeran spat.

“Because I felt the same way with Minhee,” Saeyoung told him simply, and just as Saeran opened his mouth to retort, Saeyoung interrupted him. “Maybe not exactly the same, but similar enough to understand. I pushed her away, Saeran. I said horrible things to her to get her to leave me alone because I felt like I was too dangerous to keep her safe. I felt like I would corrupt her.” Saeyoung gulped, his eyes glazing over at the memory, and Saeran just stared at him, dumbfounded. “But she kept on trying. She kept begging me to let her in and to let her help me. So… eventually, I did. And it was the best decision I’ve ever made, and now that I think about how I almost lost her… I just… I can’t imagine a life like that.” Saeyoung’s eyes came back into focus and looked directly at Saeran. “I don’t know exactly how you feel about Yoosung, but you obviously care about him, so you _need_ to talk to him. You _need_ to explain how you feel.”

“No.” Saeran shook his head, but his voice was weak and shaky. “No, I can’t. It’s different. This is different. You were dangerous because of your job, but you could protect her from that. I’m dangerous because I’m _me_. I can’t hurt him, but I know that I will.” He looked up at the blood trickling down Saeyoung’s nose from where he’d punched his glasses into his face. “I hurt you all the time, and it’s accidental. I _can’t_ hurt Yoosung. I just _can’t_.”

“You might think Yoosung’s weak, but he isn’t,” Saeyoung told him. “He’s not only one of the most forgiving people I know, but also one of the strongest. You haven’t broken him. He’s upset, sure, but he’s not broken. He won’t break this easily, and it’ll take a hell of a lot more than what you could possibly do to deter him. You wouldn’t hurt him intentionally, and that’s all that matters. He can help you through the rest.”

“But he…” Saeran felt his voice catch in his throat before he rasped out. “Rika.”

Saeyoung tensed, and Saeran finally dropped his gaze, staring at the floor in defeat.

“You can tell him about her in time,” Saeyoung spoke slowly, as though he was trying to convince himself as well as Saeran. “He’ll understand.”

“No, he won’t,” Saeran sobbed brokenly. “He practically worships her. He’s never going to pick me over her.”

“Once you tell him what she did to you, he will,” Saeyoung said more firmly this time. “He obviously cares about you, Saeran. He _kissed_ you, and Yoosung’s not the kind of guy to kiss just anyone.”

“It was his first kiss,” Saeran cringed into himself at his words. “He told me. But I ruined it, I said the worst possible things I could think of to him just so he would leave and not care about me anymore.”

“Like I said, he’s tougher than he looks,” Saeyoung told him, and he finally slid his arms around Saeran, pulling him against his chest.

“My thoughts…they won’t stop…” Saeran rasped.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. You _will_ be okay,” Saeyoung promised.

But it was an empty promise. Saeran knew he could never truly be okay.

Not while he was alive.


	13. gin made of tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter is a little clumsy and kind of weak, but I don't want to cut it out because it's pretty important.

**_yoosung_ **

The first thing Yoosung had done after running out the bunker was call Saeyoung as the tears poured down his face. He couldn’t stay in there, but there was no way he could leave Saeran on his own for too long either. What if something bad happened? Fuck. He hoped it hadn’t already.

Saeyoung had arrived there within ten minutes, and in that space of time Yoosung had been trying unsuccessfully to distract himself from the things Saeran had said and stop crying. He knew in his heart he hadn’t truly meant any of them, but it was _so_ difficult to disregard them entirely. He kept getting dragged back into that moment by the nagging voice in the back of his head telling him he’d fucked up. He couldn’t forget the feeling of Saeran’s lips pressed against his own, and it made him shiver every time he thought about it. It had been something he felt like he’d been waiting for his entire life, and now he understood _exactly_ why people kissed, but he couldn’t think about it without remembering how Saeran had reacted afterwards. And that meant he couldn’t stop crying.

Yoosung knew Saeran had liked it. He _knew_ it, but his thoughts wouldn’t listen and kept throwing barrels of self-doubt at him which exploded in his face.

When Saeyoung had arrived, he rushed over to Yoosung and tried to pull him to his feet. Yoosung couldn’t remember having fallen to the floor.

“No! Go and help Saeran!” he had yelled through his tears, wiping his eyes angrily. “ _He_ needs help, not me.”

Before Saeyoung could respond, Yoosung had run as fast as he could along the street, but now he felt a stitch stabbing into his side and his muscles were burning too hard for him to carry on. He hunched over breathlessly in an attempt to calm down, but he just _couldn’t_.

He walked a little further before stumbling across a bar he vaguely recognised. Yoosung didn’t usually frequent bars, but he decided to go inside anyway and get as drunk as he could possibly handle to numb himself and from his pain. He dialled Zen’s number once his first glass of gin and whatever the fuck else he’d asked for was half empty.

“Yoosung?”

“Zen. Can you meet me?” he asked flatly.

“Uhhhhhhh sure!” Zen slurred, and Yoosung figured he must already be drunk from the party. Good, that would make this easier.

“Great. Meet me at that bar we came to for your birthday last year,”

“Okie dokie! See ya soon, Yoosungie!”

It was about twenty minutes before Zen finally stumbled in, and Yoosung was already on his third drink. Still going strong with the gin, he was finally starting to feel disoriented. Unfortunately, the pain was still there.

“Drinking?! At 3pm?? What happened?” Zen almost fell onto the barstool next to him before finally sitting down and ordering a drink. Yoosung would have laughed at his hypocrisy any other time, but right now he could barely stop himself crying. “Did something happen with Saeran?”

On their way to the party, Yoosung had been talking about Saeran a lot, and Zen had joked about how it sounded as though he had a crush on him, to which Yoosung had responded with awkward laughter and a weak denial. He knew Zen was joking around and trying to piss him off, but hearing his name shot arrows into his heart and he hunched over.

“Yes,” Yoosung told him simply, taking a sip from his glass and scowling down at it. “Yes it did.”

“Oh? What?” This had piqued Zen’s interests.

“I kissed him,” Yoosung admitted, clutching his glass so hard he hoped it might break in his hand and cut him to pieces.

“Wait, really?” Zen was suddenly shocked, apparently enough to sober up a little. “I’m, uh… I’m guessing it didn’t go to well?”

“Oh, no, it was great,” Yoosung told him in a flat voice. “The kiss was amazing. Better than I could have ever hoped for. But then he freaked out afterwards.”

“What did he say?”

Yoosung flinched at the memory. “He told me he didn’t care about me and never would…” Yoosung trailed off and let out a wail, burying his face in his hands. “But he kissed me back. I don’t know what to do! I don’t want to give up. I _really_ like him, but I don’t know if he likes me too.”

“Uh… okay, I’m guessing you called me here for advice on what to do…?” Zen spoke slowly, clearly trying to supress how drunk he really was.

“I guess,” Yoosung shrugged, ignoring the tears that had started rolling down his cheeks. “I don’t really know. I don’t know exactly why he freaked out so I don’t know how to get him back.”

“Well, you know him better than me,” Zen pointed out. “So tell me, why do you think he would’ve freaked out? Is he, like… in the closet, still?”

“It didn’t seem like it was because of that,” Yoosung shook his head. “It felt more like… he wanted to push me away. He has trust issues, and I get that. It’s just… I can’t forget what he said.” Yoosung heard a loud sob escape his throat again, and his head fell into his arms which were folded on the bar. He felt Zen put a hand on his shoulder, and it would have been reassuring if Yoosung hadn’t been comparing it to Saeran’s touch. “I like him so much, Zen. I can’t even explain how much. I want to kiss him again. I want to make him happy.”

“Yoosung,” Zen slurred. “He’s been through a lot… like, _a lot._ ” He hiccupped and Yoosung felt a harsh giggle escape his throat which morphed into a sob. He lifted his head and downed the rest of his drink before signalling for another. “He… he’s not just gonna get over it quickly. You have to help him.”

“I _know_ ,” Yoosung told him. “I _have_ been helping him, and I was getting somewhere, but now I’ve ruined it.”

“You can’t think like that,” Zen told him. “You gotta keep trying.”

Zen was being surprisingly unhelpful. Although, Yoosung supposed he didn’t really know Saeran at all. He couldn’t have called Saeyoung because firstly, Saeyoung was Saeran’s _brother_ and secondly, he didn’t drink. But despite all this, Yoosung found himself desperately longing for his best friend to be here giving him advice along with Zen.

“Why don’t you call him?” Zen suggested suddenly.

“Right now?” Yoosung looked up at him in disbelief, his vision swimming slightly before his eyes.

“Well, why not?” Zen shrugged. “I’ll order some shots while you do it.”

Zen turned to try and get the attention of the bar staff, and Yoosung pulled his phone out of his pocket. He was still wearing his suit, and he suddenly realised how strange he must have looked in here by himself. At least Zen was here now, too.

He tapped on Saeran’s contact and his finger hovered over the call button. Was this really a good idea? What if he hadn’t calmed down yet? What if he was still mad? What if he just yelled at Yoosung all over again?

Yoosung steeled himself. He didn’t care. Chances are he wouldn’t pick up anyway, but even if he did pick up and ended up yelling at him, it would still mean Yoosung would get to hear his voice and make sure he was okay. He couldn’t stop caring, despite how much Saeran had insisted he didn’t give a shit about him. He pressed ‘call’ and held the phone to his ear.

He could hear it ringing, which told him Saeran’s phone was on, at least. His heart was pounding and his lips were tingling and his neck was aching from where it remembered his touch. He remembered how softy Saeran had caressed his cheeks and his jaw and how gentle his lips had been and how Yoosung had felt as though the world could have ended in that moment and he wouldn’t have cared.

How could Saeran possibly say that none of it had meant a thing?

The phone rang out and he was greeted with an automated message telling him he could leave a voicemail, but he pressed the ‘end’ button instead. He just hoped Saeyoung was helping him.

The sound of a glass scraping across the table as Zen pushed it towards him pulled his attention away, and he flipped his phone shut.

“Cheers,” Zen held up his shot, and Yoosung clinked his own against it before they both downed them. Yoosung grimaced at the taste of tequila, but he didn’t really care about that. He just needed to feel something other than this hurt.

“How can you tell when it’s real?” Yoosung blurted out suddenly. He knew he was rapidly changing the subject, but he didn’t care. His mind was jumping all over the place. “How do you know if your feelings are real? Because maybe this feeling will go away soon and everything will be back to normal.”

“I… uh… I dunno.” Zen blinked at him a few times. “I guess you compare it to the other times you’ve been in the same position. Like, was Saeran’s kiss better than anyone else’s?”

“I’ve never kissed anyone else,” Yoosung muttered, taking another drink from his glass.

“Oh… uh, then hugging? Or holding hands? Anything like that.”

Yoosung thought for a moment before reaching out and grabbing Zen’s hand, linking their fingers together. He looked up at the shocked expression in his red eyes, and squeezed his hand, hoping to feel something. He stared at him intently. He was attractive, there was no denying it. His white hair fell softly into his face and his strong jawline and perfectly smooth skin were enough to make anyone swoon. Whenever Saeran’s hand had been in his, Yoosung’s heart had been racing at a thousand miles per second, but holding Zen’s hand… just felt like skin on skin. It didn’t make him feel as light and happy as the few times he had held Saeran’s. And, while Zen was beautiful, there was just something so _pure_ about Saeran. There was something different, and it pulled Yoosung in like a magnet, rather than Zen’s appearance which he was quite content with observing from afar.

“It’s different,” Yoosung said, pulling his hand away. “It feels different. Whenever we hold hands, I feel like I’m floating on a cloud.”

“Then it’s probably real,” Zen told him pointedly, taking a sip from his own glass before saying. “I didn’t know you were gay.”

“I’m not!” Yoosung protested on reflex. “Well… I’ve liked girls before, so I can’t be. Saeran’s the first guy I’ve liked, but I guess this feels different to any of the times I’ve liked girls. It feels more real.”

“Listen, Yoosung.” Zen turned his full body on the stool to face him. He placed his hands on Yoosung’s shoulders and looked him directly in the eyes before continuing. “It sounds to me a lot like you really _do_ have feelings for this guy. It even sounds like you’re falling for him… hell, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you already _had_ fallen for him.”

Yoosung choked on his breath. “Y-you think I’m _in love?_ ”

“I don’t know… maybe.” Zen shook his head to refocus himself. “But that isn’t the point. The point is that you care for him a hell of a lot, and you can’t let that go. You can’t let him hurt both of you by pushing you away. You need to try and talk to him.”

“He didn’t pick up when I called.”

“Then try again! And keep trying! Call him tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that until he picks up. Call Saeyoung and ask if you can go over and visit. You have to do _something_!”

“But… I’m scared that he pushed me away because I’m too clingy, and too pushy.” Yoosung felt his voice shaking as Zen dropped his hands from Yoosung’s shoulders, leaning to the side to against the bar. “I feel like I’m too obsessed with him.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I have a list,” Yoosung confessed, chuckling sadly. “I have a list in my head of things he likes.”

Zen’s eyes widened. “That’s… that’s not a bad thing.” He blinked a few times. “That’s actually really cute. Why do you have that?”

“So I can cheer him up if I ever need to. At first it was just because I wanted to get to know him better and figure out his personality, but now… now, I don’t know. It’s more than that.”

“What’s on the list?” Zen asked, swirling his drink in his glass. Yoosung drew in a deep breath.

“The first thing he likes is the sky.” Yoosung held up one finger to count them off as he listed them. “He likes looking at it, and as soon as he was allowed to go outside after being locked in for months, he started getting happier. The second one,” he held up a second finger, “is ice cream. It’s his favourite food, and strawberry is his favourite flavour. We got ice cream the first time we went on a walk together. The third thing,” he held up his third finger. Reciting this list felt oddly personal, but it was helping him remember all the good times they’d had together and he didn’t want to stop, “is cotton candy. He mentioned he liked it when I sent him a photo of clouds and said they looked like cotton candy. Oh, that’s the fourth thing,” Yoosung held up his next finger, “clouds. He likes the sky in general, but he specifically likes the way the clouds change and move. He says it’s something that’s always the same but always changing at the same time. The fifth thing is art.” He stuck out his thumb. “He said that even though he never went to school, he feels like his favourite subject would have been art. He even designed his own tattoo, but I don’t know if he draws a lot or anything like that. The sixth thing,” Yoosung held up his other hand, sticking up out his other thumb, “is the smell of bleach. On our first walk together, we bought some bleach for his hair, and he told me he likes how it smells. Number seven is dogs.” He held up the second finger of his left hand. “All animals seem to love him, but he likes dogs the best because they’re loyal. The eighth thing is painting his nails.” Yoosung held up his eighth finger. “I suppose that’s to do with him liking art too. He said doing it calms him down when he’s feeling anxious. The ninth thing is staring at the ceiling.” Yoosung held up another finger. “Well, he never said he specifically _likes_ that, but it’s something he does a lot so I put it on the list anyway. And… well,” Yoosung paused, relaxing his fingers and resting his arms on the bar, dropping his head down slightly, “I suppose the tenth thing he likes doing is kissing Yoosung and breaking his fucking heart.”

“Yoosung…” Zen said softly, and Yoosung felt a hand rest gently on his shoulder. Yoosung hunched in on himself even further, screwing up his eyes and trying not to cry. “You _have_ to speak to him.”

Yoosung gulped. “I… I can’t,” he admitted. “I don’t… I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold myself together if I see him again. If he yells at me like he did before, I’ll just…” He tried to swallow the lump forming in his throat. “I’ll break, Zen. I can’t handle the way he sounded… how much _hatred_ he had in his voice, and all because of me. I fucked up, Zen. I should just… I should leave him alone forever.” Yoosung hiccupped and felt himself start sobbing uncontrollably. The alcohol hadn’t numbed him, it had just made him think about everything even more.

“Listen, you’re going to be okay,” Zen told him firmly, suddenly sounding very sober. “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but things will change. Things will get better. You care about him way too much to let all this fall through, and I _know_ you, Yoosung. You would never back down from something like this. You’re the most stubborn, determined person I know when it comes to things you really want. You’ll fix things with Saeran, and whether you end up together or not is entirely down to you two, but I’d be willing to bet on it.” Zen paused and pulled at Yoosung’s shoulder slightly to sit him up straighter and look at him. “How did Saeran respond to you when you kissed him?” Yoosung opened his mouth to speak but Zen interrupted him. “No! Not _after_ the kiss. During it. Who initiated it? What did he do? Tell me exactly what happened, ‘cause I get the impression he likes you too but just doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

Yoosung gulped and tried to stop his tears. “Well… we were on the sofa and he asked… he asked if he could hold my hand. I think it comforts him.” He paused for a moment to think. “Maybe I should add hand-holding to the list.” He shook his head. He was getting distracted. “Then we were just… talking. And he talked about some things that had happened at Mint Eye. He didn’t think they were a big deal, but they were so _horrible_ and I started crying. Then it was… it was like he was in some kind of trance. He was just staring at me, and he reached up and wiped my tears away.” Yoosung closed his eyes at the memory, and absently touched the place Saeran’s fingers had ghosted over. “He took the hand he was holding and pressed it against his own cheek.” Yoosung could feel his fingers itching to touch Saeran’s face again. “And I think at some point he said he didn’t know what he was feeling… like he was confused. I don’t remember who initiated it… I think it was both of us. We both just kind of leaned in and then, before I knew it, I could… I could feel…” Yoosung choked and touched his lower lip with his fingers, remembering the sensation of Saeran’s lips pressed against his own. “I didn’t want to push him… I never meant to, but I did anyway. I pushed him too far. He was confused and sad and I took advantage of it and I’ll never be able to-”

“Yoosung!” Zen almost shouted, and Yoosung realised his voice had been getting louder and more hysterical. “That’s not what it sounds like at all. I stand by what I said before, I think he _does_ have feelings for you, but he’s confused and doesn’t know what to do. He’s been through so much, and he’s probably not used to feeling so loved. You have to give him time, but he’s _going_ to come around.”

“You think so?” Yoosung sniffed, barely daring to hope. Zen sounded so certain.

“I _know_ so,” Zen told him confidently, and Yoosung lifted his glass to take another sip, but Zen reached out and pushed it back down away from his lips. “I think it’s best you don’t drink any more. Go home and just relax. Call him tomorrow after you’ve had time to sober up, and see if he’s willing to talk. If he’s not… well, just keep trying. He can’t avoid you forever.”

“I guess,” Yoosung replied. He could practically guarantee Saeran was going to _try_ and avoid him forever, but he had to admit Zen was right.

If Yoosung valued their relationship at all, he should try and fix this. If Saeran didn’t have feelings for him, that was fine – Yoosung could deal with that. He just wanted to stay friends. He wanted to help him and be there for him whenever Saeran needed someone. It could take a while to get back on track, but he _had_ to keep trying.

Losing Rika had hurt him enough. He couldn’t lose anyone else in his life.

Especially not Saeran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehhhhh too much dialogue, I know. but they're drunk so I guess it's okay?? I dunno lol tell me what you think!


	14. the bitter pill i swallow, the scar souvenir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please please please please check the updated tags!! it's so important because I really don't want this chapter to trigger anyone, and pretty much all the bad tags for this fic come into play in this chapter.  
> also I just pulled an all-nighter and it's now 9am and I'm running mostly on coffee, so even though I've proofread this four times there may still be mistakes.

**_saeran_ **

Life and death. The only difference was that life hurt more.

Saeran clutched his hands against his chest, feeling his heartbeat reverberate throughout his body. Even though his breathing was calm and steady, his heart was giving him away.

He hadn’t had long. There had been a short window of time – less than sixty seconds – that he had taken advantage of while he could. No time to hesitate. Only to act. And now he was just waiting for the right moment.

Now he was faced with it, the reality was hitting him like a crashing tsunami, but at the same time he felt as though he were floating through space, disconnected from reality. He liked that feeling.

He could hear Saeyoung’s feet softly hitting the floor as he walked around outside his room. He just needed to wait for the door to his brother’s bedroom to close, and then he could complete what he needed to do. Gently unclasping his hands, he slowly reached out next to him, grasping hold of his phone. He clicked the home button and it lit up, almost blinding him, but that didn’t matter right now. He saw he had a missed call from Yoosung an hour or so after he’d left earlier, and felt his heart scrape against his throat. He was glad he hadn’t picked up, though. If he’d spoken to him, he would either have had to hurt him again, or his feelings would have pushed their way through his barriers and he would have let him in. He couldn’t do that. Not to Yoosung. He couldn’t hurt him like that.

He swiped away the ‘missed call’ notification and clicked on their text conversation, gulping down the lump in his throat as he read their past messages. They could never go back to that. He typed out the planned two words slowly, as though his fingers were aching and finding it difficult to move across the keyboard. He hoped Yoosung wasn’t awake right now. That could ruin everything.

 

                **(03:29)** I’m sorry

 

As soon as the message sent, he pressed the power off button to shut his phone down, throwing it on the floor. Even if it turned out Yoosung was awake, there would be nothing he could do.

He heard Saeyoung walk into his bedroom and close the door, finally deciding to go to sleep for the night. This was Saeran’s cue.

He sat up and reached under his pillow, pulling out what he’d managed to steal earlier.

A fragment of the glass from where he’d thrown it against the wall. He’d had just enough time to grab it and hide it before Saeyoung came back into the room to clear it up. It was sharp and pointed, and Saeran pressed it against his finger. Although he didn’t push it hard enough to draw blood, he could still feel the pressure and the sharpness of the point, so he knew it would do. It would have to. He couldn’t take any chances and he definitely couldn’t miss this opportunity. It might be the only one he ever got.

Reaching under his pillow again, he pulled out the second set of objects. These had been more difficult to get, but he’d just about managed to scrape past Saeyoung in the small period of time the safe in his room was open and unguarded. It was only a few seconds, but it was enough. Saeran had blindly grabbed three bottles of pills and run back to his room. He hadn’t bothered reading the labels, but he figured they’d do.

Gulping nervously, he tried to ignore how his hands were shaking as he placed the small pots in front of him. Everything felt warped. Real but not real. He was doing this for everyone else. It didn’t matter that he was scared, all that mattered was that he would be removed from everyone else’s lives.

He picked up the piece of glass and studied it closely. He told himself that this was just to speed up the process so perhaps he’d bleed out at the same time, but in all honesty he was so sick and tired of only being able to make himself bleed through using his dull fingernails. He wanted a clean cut and he wanted to see the immediate effect.

Spinning the glass around in his hand a few times, he finally pressed it against the back of his arm and dragged it across. This wouldn’t make him bleed out, obviously – it barely even broke the skin – but he wanted to _see_ it. And he did. The blood bubbled out of the cut irregularly due to the unevenness of the glass, and he stared at it, feeling a mild sense of relief wash over him as he felt the sharp stinging sensation. He flipped his arm over and pressed the glass against his wrist this time, dragging it across once, twice, three times until there were three neat, dripping lines. He squeezed the skin between his fingers and inhaled sharply at the pain as the blood was pushed out a little faster. The relief was just pushing over the edge of his hopelessness, but it wasn’t quite enough. He needed more.

The next few cuts were deeper, and he eventually flipped to his other wrist and repeated the process. He didn’t want to bleed out entirely, but he thought that maybe losing blood would make the pills work faster when he took them. The familiar sting of the cuts on his wrists was sending jolts throughout his entire body, and he lashed at himself a few more times, cutting deeper each time.

He was absolutely immersed in this feeling, but the corner of his mind still managed to wander towards Yoosung. He wondered how he would react when he found out. Would he be relieved or upset? If he was going to be upset, Saeran hoped it wouldn’t last too long. He truly would do so much better without him in this world.

Saeran placed the bloody glass down on his bed, not caring that the blood was dripping onto the white sheets. Saeyoung could throw them out when he had gone.

He picked up the first bottle of pills. Should he take all three bottles of them? Or would one be enough? There wasn’t really much point wasting resources if he didn’t need to. Maybe he should just stick to one bottle. As far as he could remember, the dosage he was on for most of his medications was pretty high, so maybe one bottle would be enough to do it.

_Or maybe you’ll change your mind._

No. That’s not what this was. Saeran wasn’t going to change his mind… he’d been waiting for this… this was his chance…

He unscrewed the lid, again, ignoring how his hands shook. That was just from the blood loss. He was starting to feel lightheaded, and he could see stars among the red mess of his arms. He tipped some of the pills onto his palm.

Perhaps he should have got a glass of water? Perhaps he should write a letter? Or maybe he could text Yoosung one last time…

 _No._ He had to do this _now_.

He placed the bottle down and lifted one of the pills from his palm, holding it in front of his face with his thumb and forefinger. He pressed it against his lips for a second, closing his eyes.

He was about to die, so he was allowed to indulge his thoughts just this once… right?

In a minute. He would let himself think once he couldn’t turn back.

He cleared his mind and pushed the pill into his mouth, swallowing it dry, before quickly grabbing another and doing the same. Each pill he swallowed made his throat feel more and more raw, and he soon realised he was crying silently as they settled in his stomach, ready to do their worst.

He reached his hand into the pot and felt his fingers scrape the bottom.

That was it. They were all gone. He was going to die.

He opened the floodgates to his thoughts.

They bombarded him. Thoughts of Yoosung and Saeyoung and even Minhee filled his mind. He hadn’t realised he’d started caring about her, so that was a revelation for him. She was nice and kind and soft and Saeran had been nothing but mean and cold and bitter in return. He hadn’t deserved her kindness, yet she’d continued to give it anyway. She was a good person. He hoped she knew that, and if she didn’t, he was sure Saeyoung would eventually convince her.

Saeyoung. His twin brother. Saeran’s feelings were still mixed, but in this moment of realisation he remembered the genuine care he’d given him. It was impossible to fake that. Saeyoung cared about him and wanted him to get better. He felt bad for breaking his promises and betraying Saeran, and wanted to do everything he could to make up for it.

But, ultimately, he would be better off without him.

Saeran’s vision flickered for a moment, and he felt his brain start to go woozy. Whether that was because of the blood loss or the pills, he didn’t know. It didn’t really matter.

At last, Saeran finally allowed himself to think about Yoosung. The golden boy who had pushed his way into his life and then refused to leave. The sunshine on a rainy day. The fluffy cloud in a stormy sky. The light in the darkness. At the time, he hadn’t noticed himself start to care for him so much, but now it was painfully and heart-wrenchingly obvious how colossal his feelings were. He wondered if Yoosung had seen past his harsh words and bitter lies from earlier, and felt satisfied when he realised he probably had. He was smart, and sometimes Saeran felt as though Yoosung knew him better than he knew himself. He would never have been able to thank him enough if he’d tried, and he gulped at the thought of never seeing him again.

Wait… he was never going to see Yoosung again. Ever. He would never see his smile, or hold his hand, or taste his lips, or hear his laugh. The sudden realisation hit him like a tonne of bricks, and he felt even more tears pushing themselves out of his eyes. He wanted to kiss him again one last time, and hold him close, and listen to his even breaths as they fell asleep in each other’s arms. He would never be able to have that. He _knew_ it was selfish to stay alive, but _he wanted that life_.

He felt as though his face was being punched repeatedly, his soul shaking as he realised the _reality_ of all this. He was no longer floating through space or flying with the clouds. He was sitting on his bed with blood pouring from his wrists and too many pills in his stomach.

“No…” he rasped, his throat scratchy and raw. “Saeyoung…”

His voice was broken, so he had no choice. He pushed himself off his bed and stumbled, falling heavily against the wall and leaving smears of blood on everything he touched.

_He didn’t want this._

“Saeyoung…” he tried calling again, and he pounded his fist weakly against the wall. He could feel his vision beginning to darken as black spots appeared in front of his eyes, and his heavy eyelids begged him to let them close.

“No…”

He stumbled to his bedroom door, yanking it open and nearly falling into the hallway. Saeyoung’s room was there… it was right… there…

“Saeyoung…” he tried calling out again, feeling the panic bubbling in his chest. It was like one of his bad dreams where he was trying to scream but his voice was dead in his throat. His breath was coming out in shallow gasps, and he felt as though he wasn’t getting enough oxygen into his lungs. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears deafeningly loud, a reminder that it had only a limited number of beats left.

He somehow managed to reach Saeyoung’s door, falling against it heavily. He tried to grasp the doorknob, but his hands were slippery with blood.

“Saeyoung…” he croaked, banging his fist weakly against the door. “Help me…”

Suddenly, the door gave way against him and he fell forwards, but he felt a pair of hands catch him.

“Oh my God! Saeran!” Saeyoung’s voice was frantic and panicked and yelling. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!”

“Pills… I have… too many…” Saeran clutched his stomach, looking up at his brother who was almost entirely covered in black spots and blotches at this point. “Please… tell Yoosung… please…”

Saeran felt himself slip and fall, both physically and in his mind as he hurtled into an all-encompassing darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> believe it or not I actually do not enjoy hurting these characters ;_;


	15. that tattoo, your last bruise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is short but I couldn't just leave it there omg

**_yoosung_ **

Yoosung blinked a few times and groaned at the pain in his head.

He _had_ gone home, like Zen had told him to, but instead of resting, he had gone out and bought a bottle of vodka and sat drinking it straight from the bottle while playing LOLOL, drunkenly yelling at all the idiots who apparently didn’t know how to _fucking play_.

And now he was feeling the consequences.

He felt like if he moved he might vomit, but even if he didn’t move he thought he might anyway. He opted for not moving. Safer. Less effort.

At least trying not to vomit was distracting him from Saeran.

Yoosung buried his face into his pillow after glancing at his clock. It said 9:20am, which in his head was way too early to have his eyes open. He screwed them shut, trying to fall asleep again, but it became pretty obvious pretty soon that wasn’t happening.

He should probably get a bin or something just in case he _did_ vomit…

His phone buzzed signalling a new text message, but he ignored it. Whoever it was could wait while he composed himself. He raised his heavy hand to his head, brushing his hair away from his face and unsticking it from his sweaty forehead. He wanted to open a window, but that would mean moving. _Ugh,_ why hadn’t he taken Zen’s advice and just gone to bed?

Finally, he decided he probably should head to the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help him feel less gross, anyway. He could still smell the alcohol on his body, and that probably didn’t help with the nausea.

Lifting his head from his pillow carefully, he leaned on his elbows for a moment. Hey, this wasn’t so bad. He sat up slowly and swung his legs over the side of his bed before standing. The nausea was still there, but this wasn’t as terrible as he had expected it to be. His mouth and throat and lips felt like sandpaper, so he grabbed a glass of water and sipped it slowly. He knew drinking it too fast would almost definitely result in him throwing up, even if right now he didn’t feel too awful.

Walking to the bathroom wasn’t so bad either, but he still opted for leaving all the lights off, because he felt like they would hurt his eyes otherwise. He lifted the lid of the toilet in case he suddenly needed to vomit, and then started peeling his clothes off, leaving them in a heap on the floor and turning on the water. He opted for keeping the water on the colder side to refresh him and wake himself up, and stepped in.

Without warning, his thoughts drifted back to Saeran. Yoosung wondered how he was feeling today, and swallowed down the lump in his throat at the memory of him yelling at him. No. That was yesterday. Today was fresh and new and filled with endless possibilities. He had to think positively.

He would call him as soon as he got out the shower, and if he didn’t pick up, he would text him. If he didn’t reply for a while, he would try calling again, and if worst came to worst he would call Saeyoung to make sure he was okay. He wanted to be there for Saeran, but he didn’t want to push him too hard and make him uncomfortable. He knew he just needed time and space, and Yoosung cursed himself for being so clingy.

Against his will, his mind wandered back to the kiss. He closed his eyes as the cool water poured over his head and he remembered the feeling of Saeran’s lips and his gentle touch. His lips had been chapped and rough, but somehow that hadn’t taken away from the softness of the overall kiss. Yoosung wondered how his own lips had felt, and whether Saeran was thinking about them right now. Just the thought of having shared something so intimate with someone he liked so much made his stomach squirm so that he had to force himself to stop thinking about it, or he might throw up. Besides, there were more important things to think about, like trying to figure out how to fix what he’d broken between them.

He shut the water off and stepped out the shower, grabbing his towel and ruffling it through his hair a little before wrapping it around his waist.

As he stepped out the bathroom and headed to retrieve his glass of water again, he noticed his phone sitting there glaring at him. Part of him was scared to check it, in case he didn’t have any texts from Saeran. Part of him was scared just in case he _did_. He gulped and decided he couldn’t take it any longer. He needed to check his phone. He needed to talk to Saeran.

He flipped it open. It was on low battery, but that didn’t matter. He noticed he had two unread messages and one missed call.

One text was from Saeran.

He felt his breath catch in his throat as his finger hovered over the button to open it. He swallowed hard before finally pressing it.

 

                **(03:29)** I’m sorry

 

Was… was that Saeran’s apology for yelling at him? Yoosung stared at the two words, and felt tears forming in his eyes, clutching his fist to his heart as he felt the overwhelming feeling of relief crash over him. He didn’t know exactly what those two words were referring to, but it was enough to know Saeran had forgiven him for fucking up. In reality, Yoosung should have been the one apologising, not Saeran.

Then he noticed the time the text was sent. Huh, half three in the morning? That seemed like an odd time to decide to apologise. Maybe… maybe Saeran had had a bad night? Oh, God, Yoosung hoped that wasn’t the case. He never wanted to trigger anything like that for him.

He decided to check the other text before calling Saeran, and saw it was from Saeyoung.

It was just three words, but it was enough to send Yoosung’s heart crashing through the floor.

 

                **(09:23)** Saeran’s in hospital.

 

_What?_

Yoosung’s mind went blank and all he could hear was a high-pitched ringing noise in his ears. Hospital?? What had happened? Why hadn’t Saeyoung elaborated on this in his text?!

Yoosung clicked Saeyoung’s number, instantly calling him. He picked up halfway through the first ring, as though he’d been waiting for him to call.

“Yoosung.”

“Saeyoung! What’s going on?!” Yoosung’s voice was quiet and panicked, as though he couldn’t bear to speak above a whisper.

“It’s S-Saeran.” Saeyoung’s voice was weak and stammering – something Yoosung wasn’t used to. “He got really bad…” his voice trailed off.

“What do you mean?! What happened?”

“I don’t know… I don’t know how he did it… he was suddenly at my bedroom door and he was covered in blood and he said he’d taken all these pills and I-”

“Wait, pills?” Yoosung’s brain felt like it was trying to wade through mud.

“He tried to kill himself.”

Yoosung stumbled backwards, tripping over his shoes and landing on the floor hard as he gasped and choked out a sob.

“H-he…?”

“He cut his arms and took a whole bottle of his medication at once… oh God, Yoosung. He’s getting his stomach pumped but I… he’s so weak. He’s lost so much blood and I…” Saeyoung’s voice got stuck in his throat. “Can you come? Please?”

Yoosung couldn’t reply. He could barely process what he was hearing. All he could see in his mind was an image of Saeran curled up in a ball on the floor, covered in gashes and blood, shivering and shaking and crying desperately.

He thought about the text, and felt his stomach lurch. That had probably been just before…

Yoosung barely had time to grab his bin before he threw up the entire contents of his stomach. He retched and sobbed and felt his brain _screaming_.

If Saeran didn’t pull through… oh God oh God oh God.

This was all his fault. He had pushed him too far and kissed him and then he’d flipped out and done _this_. Yoosung could never forgive himself.

“Yoosung,” Saeyoung’s voice on the other line was distant through his screaming thoughts. “Before he passed out he… he said your name.”

“W-what?” Suddenly the screams in his brain went silent and all he could hear was the beating of his own heart echoing in his head.

“He said something… he told me to tell you something.”

“What? What was it?” Yoosung pushed the bin away from him, wiping his mouth on his bare arm, still damp from the shower.

“He… he passed out before he said it.”

Yoosung straightened his back and wiped his eyes. “Then he can wake up and tell me himself,” he said determinedly. “He has to…”

“Please come,” Saeyoung begged. “Please. I can’t be alone, and I know you care for him.”

“Okay,” Yoosung finally answered. “Yes, I’ll be there. I just… I just need to get dressed.” It seemed so menial and pointless in that moment, but he couldn’t go out in just a towel.

He hung up without saying goodbye, and instantly dropped his phone on the floor, gripping his hair in his hands and pulling it.

_It was all his fault._

No, that didn’t matter right now. He could think about that later when Saeran was awake. Right now… right now he needed to be there for Saeyoung and make certain Saeran woke up. He could talk to him. Saeran would hear him. He knew he would.

Yoosung sobbed brokenly for a few moments before pulling himself to his feet, his head still pounding from alcohol and determination.

Saeran _had_ to wake up.


	16. there's never air to breathe, there's never in-betweens

**_yoosung_ **

Because it was a Sunday, the buses weren’t running regularly enough which meant Yoosung made the decision to just run to the hospital instead. It wasn’t far, even on foot, but by the time he got there he was a panting, sweating mess. He _needed_ to see Saeran and find out exactly what had happened and exactly how to help him. _If_ he could help him.

He skidded to a halt just outside the building to compose himself, trying to calm his fractured breaths and pounding heart. Looking panicked would only make him feel even more panicked.

Trying to ignore the sweat dripping down his face and soaking through the back of his t-shirt, Yoosung walked into the building in a way he hoped seemed casual. Saeyoung had told him which waiting room he was in, so Yoosung had thought he was prepared, but this hospital was so _huge_. He got lost twice before finally finding the right floor and corridor, rushing along it and slamming open the door to see Saeyoung jolt upright in his chair. He blinked a few times, glancing up at Yoosung tiredly, who realised he must have just woken him up. Saeyoung didn’t seem to care about that, though, as Yoosung walked over and stood in front of him. He had a strange vacant expression in his eyes that sent shivers down Yoosung’s spine.

“Yoosung,” he said, his voice thick with exhaustion and worry. “You came.”

“Of course I did,” Yoosung told him, fidgeting with his sleeve. He suddenly realised this must have been a habit he’d picked up from Saeran, and he quickly dropped it and sat down on the chair next to his best friend. The room was empty but for them. “What’s going on? Can you please… can you please explain to me?”

“I already told you pretty much all I know,” Saeyoung said, pushing his fingers up under his glasses to rub his eyes, before pulling them off entirely and pinching the bridge of his nose. Yoosung noticed a fresh scab forming there, and he wasn’t sure whether he should ask about it. He figured he may as well. There was nothing left to lose.

“What happened to your nose?”

“Oh… that was… that was Saeran,” he confessed, dropping his hand and folding his glasses in his lap. It was strange seeing him without them on. Somehow it made him look younger and more vulnerable. Or perhaps that was just the state he was in at that moment anyway, with or without glasses. “When you left and I came back he… he was freaking out. Lashing around all over the place, and he hit me by accident.” Saeyoung gulped before continuing. “He… he told me what happened.”

“What do you mean?” Yoosung asked. “At Mint Eye?”

“No, not at Mint Eye,” Saeyoung looked directly at Yoosung. “He told me about what happened with you.”

“With me…?” Yoosung wasn’t entirely certain whether he was thinking of the right thing. Did Saeyoung mean…?

“The kiss. He told me you kissed, and he was freaking out because he was scared of hurting you,” Saeyoung told him. “He was scared because he thinks he can’t protect you from himself, and on top of that he’s scared of you betraying him too. Like I did.” The guilt filling Saeyoung’s voice weighed down Yoosung’s shoulders, causing him to slump down in his seat.

Yoosung barely knew what to say. “But… he calmed down, right?”

“Yeah, I managed to calm him down from the anger, but sometimes what comes after it is even worse.” Saeyoung sighed sadly. “He gets depressed. He’s a danger to himself rather than to other people. He wants to hurt himself, and sometimes it’s even more difficult to get him out of that state than it is with the anger or panic. I should have realised he snapped out of it way too quickly. He must have… he must have taken the pills while I wasn’t looking. I don’t know how he… how he did the cuts.”

“Was it from him scratching or biting?” Yoosung asked tentatively. He had seen him doing that before, and he knew he had in fact drawn blood from it a fair few times. Yoosung flinched at the memory.

“No, these were different. They were done with something sharp, like a knife. There were so many of them, Yoosung.” Saeyoung choked out a sob. “I could barely even see him under all the blood.”

“Oh my God,” Yoosung breathed, feeling the tears rolling silently down his cheeks as he leaned forwards on his chair, gripping hold of it tightly enough to make his knuckles turn white.

“He was pretending to be okay so I wouldn’t notice. I had no idea.”

“What time did… did he come to you?” Yoosung was afraid of the answer.

“I started hearing weird rasping noises just before 4am, and then I opened the door and he fell into me.” Yoosung scrunched his face up in his guilt.

“He text me,” Yoosung whispered. “I didn’t see it until I woke up this morning, but he text me at half three. He just said ‘I’m sorry’. I thought he was apologising for shouting at me, at first, but now… he was apologising for _this._ ”

“Yoosung,” Saeyoung’s broken sob filled the room. Yoosung had never seen him so defenceless. “What if he doesn’t make it?”

“He will. Where is he?”

“In there,” Saeyoung pointed to a narrow hallway leading to three different rooms. “The first one on the right. I don’t… I don’t know what they’re doing. I just hope they can save him.”

“He’s going to be okay,” Yoosung said, attempting to make his voice sound confident and firm, but he heard it shaking. “He has to be…”

“Yoosung,” Saeyoung whispered. “I think… I think you’re the one who saved him.”

“Saved him?” Yoosung repeated slowly, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“Last night. When he came to my room, he just mentioned pills and your name and then collapsed. I think… he must have remembered you and decided he didn’t want to die. I don’t know.”

“Don’t,” Yoosung murmured, screwing his eyes shut to try and stop his tears. “Don’t give me hope. Please.”

“I think he cares about you, Yoosung.”

“I said _don’t!_ ” Yoosung snapped more harshly than he’d intended, before letting his voice fall back into a whisper and opening his eyes again, his voice growing hysterical. “I don’t care about that right now. I don’t care if he cares about me or not, but _I_ care about _him_ and he _needs_ to get better. If you keep telling me these things, I’ll…” Yoosung choked back a sob. “My priorities will change. I’ll only care about being with him. There’s a switch inside me, Saeyoung, and I’m either all in or all out. Right now it’s balancing in the middle, and it could flick either way, and once it does, there’s no turning back. I’ll become a possessive, crazy lunatic and never let him out of my sight.”

“There’s more to you than that,” Saeyoung told him, resting his hand heavily on Yoosung’s shoulder. “You’re not just a switch. You’ll help Saeran regardless of what his choice is, and that’s what makes you so special.” Saeyoung coughed awkwardly and dropped his hand from his shoulder. “I… uh… I hope, for his sake, that it works out between you two.”

“Really?” Yoosung looked at him incredulously. Saeyoung nodded, avoiding eye contact.

“Mmhm, as weird as it’ll be at first, if you make each other happy that’s all I care about.”

In spite of the entire situation, Yoosung found himself letting out a small giggle through the tears. “Is this you giving me your blessing?”

Saeyoung smiled a little sadly. “Something like that.”

“When Saeran wakes up, I guess we’ll find out if I even need it,” Yoosung said, feeling his gut twist inside him at the thought.

But no. That wasn’t what was important. He was thinking ahead too much, as usual. All that mattered right now was that Saeran stayed alive, and the thought alone that he might not was terrifying.

A silence settled over them both, the gravity of the situation weighing down their vocal chords and leaving them unable to think of the words to say.

“When can we see him?” Yoosung asked, finally breaking the silence after what felt like hours.

“Whenever they’ve finished,” Saeyoung answered. “They said it’d be about five hours, and it’s been…” he checked his phone, “five and a half.”

Yoosung could feel his breath quickening, and he stared down at his shoes to ground himself. He had never been so scared in his life. His entire body was shaking, flushing burning hot and ice cold at the same time. Was this how Saeran felt all the time?

After what felt like an eternity, a doctor stepped out the room and headed over to them. Behind her, two other doctors walked through the waiting room and out the exit.

“Mr Choi?” she asked.

“Yes,” Saeyoung answered weakly, looking up at the doctor and putting his glasses back on.

“My name is Doctor Shim. You may see your brother now.”

“Is he okay?” Saeyoung asked desperately as he and Yoosung jumped to standing at the same time.

“He’s alive, but he’s still asleep, and quite possibly won’t wake up for a few hours, or perhaps a few days, depending how the medication affects him.”

“But… he will wake up, right?” Yoosung asked, barely daring to breathe.

“He’s very weak, but I believe he’ll pull through, Mr…?”

“Kim. Yoosung Kim.”

“Right, Mr Kim. Are you family?”

“Yes,” Saeyoung butted in immediately, before Yoosung could even open his mouth. “Yes, he’s family.”

Doctor Shim glanced between them uncertainly before shaking her head slightly. “Of course. Right this way.”

She obviously didn’t believe them, and Yoosung found himself breathing a sigh of relief at her leniency.

They followed Doctor Shim down the short corridor, and Yoosung’s feet felt as though they weighed a thousand tonnes. He could barely drag them along the floor, and each step grew heavier and heavier as he walked. He was terrified of what he’d see when he entered the room, and was forced to pause for a moment before following Saeyoung inside.

He had been expecting the worst, he truly had, and Saeran looked so heartbreakingly weak and innocent, but he looked _alive_. That was all that mattered. Yoosung choked out a sob of relief while Saeyoung rushed over to his twin, grabbing the chair and sitting in front of him, instantly reaching out to grasp his hand.

Both of Saeran’s arms were bandaged from his wrists all the way up to his elbows, and there were tubes and needles poking into the veins in the back of his hands. He looked pale and small and exhausted, but he was alive. He was okay.

Yoosung took the other chair, dragging it closer before sitting on it slowly. He noticed Saeyoung was hunched over the bed as dry, heaving sobs shook throughout his entire body.

“H-he’s okay,” he breathed in relief. “He’s going to be okay.”

Yoosung gently reached out and brushed his fingers against the bandages on one of his arms.

“He is,” Yoosung nodded in agreement, and he felt himself smile as he looked at Saeran sleeping peacefully. The only time Yoosung had seen him this calm was when he looked at the sky.

He pulled his hands back and clutched the white sheets instead. He would need to learn to give Saeran as much personal space as he needed so nothing like this ever happened again.

Yoosung knew that later that evening when he lay down to fall asleep, he would feel the overwhelming, crushing guilt rip him apart for causing this, but right now he was too relieved to worry about that. Saeran was okay, and as long as that remained true, that’s all that mattered.

He stared at Saeran’s chest, rising and falling softly underneath the hospital gown, proving that he was alive, and Yoosung felt a weight lift from his own chest.

In that moment he realised he truly didn’t care if Saeran wanted a romantic relationship with him or not. He wanted to help him be free of the guilt and the fear and the trust issues. Not immediately, of course, but someday… someday he hoped to help him overcome them.

Yoosung wanted Saeran to feel loved again in any way he needed, no matter what that meant for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, there are only 2 chapters left of this fic after this one, but I was considering maybe writing an epilogue too. what do you guys think??


	17. these nightmares always hang on past the dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *quietly increases total number of chapters to 19*

**_yoosung_ **

As he and Saeyoung sat by Saeran, Yoosung was becoming increasingly more aware of the painful truth that he still had a pretty bad hangover. This combined with the fact he’d run all the way to the hospital, not eaten anything today and was stressed to his very core about Saeran, meant Yoosung was starting to get very lightheaded, even just from sitting there next to the bed not doing anything. His adrenaline was wearing off, leaving him exhausted, and he could feel his eyes dropping closed.

“…Yoosung…”

He felt a nudge against his side and shot up in his seat. “Wha’?”

“You were asleep,” Saeyoung told him, smiling at him a little. “You don’t look too good, have you eaten?”

Yoosung shook his head. “I didn’t have time this morning.”

“Ah, that’ll be why. I’ll go get you something.” Saeyoung stood.

“Wait! No, it’s okay, I can get it,” Yoosung stood too, but Saeyoung placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down into his seat. It turned out not to be too difficult, because Yoosung’s legs seemed to be behaving remarkably like jelly.

“No, you can barely see straight. I’ll go get it. Just keep an eye on Saeran,”

It seemed as though Yoosung had no choice, so he nodded weakly. Saeyoung shot one last look at Saeran before heading out the door.

Yoosung turned back around to face Saeran, shuffling onto Saeyoung’s chair to be closer to his face. His expression was one of total serenity and relaxation, and Yoosung felt his stomach flutter at the thought of being able to see him so defenceless and innocent.

He wished he could wake up to this face every morning.

Before he realised what he was doing, his hand had reached up and brushed a strand of Saeran’s white and pink hair, shifting its position on his forehead. It was so softer than he’d expected, and Yoosung slid it between his fingers gently before dropping it and sighing. He was being creepy and clingy again.

“I know I can be too much,” Yoosung spoke aloud, his voice cracking slightly. It felt awkward to be talking aloud when no one could actually hear him, his voice doing nothing but bouncing off the white walls and echoing around the empty room. Still, he couldn’t help but hope that perhaps Saeran could hear him. “I know I’m too clingy and I know I push you too far. I… I just want to help. I hope you know that, but even so, I’m trying to get better.” Yoosung brushed his fingertips against the bandages on Saeran’s arm, allowing his fingers to dance across them softly. “I care about you so much, and I want to be… well, honestly, I don’t know what I want to be to you. But what I _do_ know is that I want to be someone you can… you can rely on.” His voice caught in his throat, but he continued talking anyway. “I want to be a friend to you if that’s what you need. A best friend. Someone you can talk to whenever you want to or even just someone to sit in silence with. I know I talk a lot, but I can be a good listener too.” Yoosung let out a small laugh, his eyes drifting from his hand on Saeran’s bandaged arm up to his face. He looked so beautiful. Even under the ugly fluorescent hospital lights and with the bags under his eyes and the shitty hospital gown and the scarily-pale skin… he was beautiful, and Yoosung felt himself unable to breathe for a moment as his heart fluttered. He looked to Saeran’s lips – just for a moment, he didn’t want to be too weird – and remembered the feeling of them on his. He shivered at the memory, and had to resist the temptation to reach his hand up and stroke Saeran’s cheek.

What was he doing? He knew all these words and all these thoughts were only going to come back to bite him. Saeran would never be his in the way he was daring to hope for, and he needed to accept that before it was too late. He desperately wanted to hold his hand, but he settled for resting his hand on Saeran’s arm, curling his fingers around it slightly, imagining he could feel his skin through the bandages. He leaned his head forwards, burying his face into the sheets, and felt the warmth of Saeran’s body as the top of his head pressed gently against his shoulder.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Yoosung admitted. “I don’t know what I’ll do when you wake up and I know I keep telling myself I’ll be fine, but I don’t know if that’s true.” He paused to take in a deep breath. “Now that I’m close to you again, there’s just… this feeling inside me. Like I’m constantly wanting more. But… I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on you. Ever. I’m trying so… so hard…” Yoosung’s voice trailed off, and he bit his bottom lip to stop himself from crying again. He really was a mess.

He closed his eyes to push the tears away, and the next thing he knew, there was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently from his sleep.

Yoosung squeaked a little as he sat up, pulling his hand away from Saeran’s arm and turning to see Saeyoung standing there.

“You really look like shit, Yoosung. I think you need to go home and sleep,” Saeyoung told him, dropping his hand from his shoulder.

“I can’t,” he insisted, and noticed what Saeyoung was holding. “Are those… Honey Buddha Chips?”

“Yep,” he smiled, sitting on Yoosung’s old chair, and handed the bag to him, watching as he opened it eagerly and shoved an entire handful into his mouth at once. “But don’t change the subject. If he shows any signs of waking up, I’ll call you right away. You _know_ I will.”

Yoosung swallowed his mouthful before speaking. “But… won’t you get lonely?”

“Minhee’s on her way,” Saeyoung explained. He pulled off his glasses again and put them on the hospital bed next to Saeran’s legs, rubbing the scab on his nose.

“Does it hurt that much?” Yoosung asked, gesturing to his nose. He’d never seen Saeyoung take off his glasses this much.

“It’s not too bad, it’s just… in an awkward place.” He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head. “It’s right where my glasses usually rest, so they keep rubbing against it. But it’s okay. And _stop changing the subject!_ You need to go home,” he insisted, his eyes flying open. Yoosung scowled.

“I want to stay with him.”

“Listen, it’s more than likely Saeran won’t wake up today, especially before visiting hours are over,” Saeyoung sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“Why?” Yoosung asked, the bag of Honey Buddha Chips forgotten in his hand.

“Because his immune system isn’t great. It never has been. He always takes a long time to recover from things which pass through me within a day or two, and looking at the amount of meds he’s been given… well, I know _I_ wouldn’t wake up from that for a good few hours at least.”

Yoosung turned to look at Saeran. “I don’t want him to wake up alone,” he said in a small voice. “When… when you go home too.”

“It’s okay,” Saeyoung told him, resting a hand on his arm. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning and we can head back here together.”

“But… you’ll call me if he wakes up today? Straight away?”

“Yes, now _go._ ” Saeyoung pushed Yoosung’s shoulder playfully. “You stole my seat and I want it back.”

Yoosung rolled his eyes and stood up, his legs wobbling slightly. He really _was_ exhausted.

Once he reached the door, he turned to look back. Saeyoung was stroking Saeran’s hair softly while his chin rest on his other hand, propped up by his elbow. It made Yoosung’s heart ache, knowing how long they’d been apart and how Saeran had almost been ripped away again. Life was cruel. It was so, incredibly cruel.

But… Yoosung felt the need to change that. He needed to help Saeran see that life _could_ be kind, and that he _could_ be happy.

He just needed to give it a chance.

 

* * *

 

Yoosung put his phone up on full volume as he slept just in case Saeyoung called, but as it turned out, he didn’t. He knew the hospital didn’t open for visitors until 10am, but Yoosung woke up at 7 due to his worry. After getting dressed and eating breakfast as slowly as he could, it finally reached the point where he couldn’t take it any longer.

 

                **(07:43)** Do you think you could hack into the CCTV so we can sneak in?

 

He was only half-joking. He received a response pretty quickly.

 

                **(07:44)** gasp!!! how morally corrupt do u think i am??!?!

 

Yoosung rolled his eyes and grinned at Saeyoung’s reply as he tapped out a response.

 

                **(07:44)** Don’t act all innocent, just do it!!

 

He barely locked his phone before he got another reply. Saeyoung was fast.

 

                **(07:44)** hacking into hospital security…i thought better of u

 

Yoosung sighed and looked out his window. Would Saeran wake up today? He really hoped so.

 

                **(07:45)** Do you think Saeran will wake up today?

                **(07:45)** I’m worried… what if he doesn’t?

 

He stared at the texts as he waited. Saeyoung took a little longer to reply this time, which didn’t help with Yoosung’s nerves one bit.

 

                **(07:46)** he should do.

                **(07:46)** also, so am I, but I’m trying to stay positive.

 

Yoosung sighed and snapped his phone shut, pressing it against his forehead as he watched the clouds pass by outside his bedroom window. He wondered what Saeran was dreaming of? Was he dreaming at all? Perhaps he was dreaming of the sky or ice cream or dogs or cotton candy or… Yoosung? It was wishful thinking, but Yoosung couldn’t help but hope that perhaps he’d managed to crawl into a corner of his mind. He wanted to adjust his list of ‘Things Saeran Likes’ and take off the last thing he’d added, ‘kissing Yoosung and breaking his fucking heart’ so he could change it to just ‘Yoosung’, or maybe even ‘kissing Yoosung’. He sighed and closed his eyes, taking his phone from his forehead and pressing it against his lower lip instead. He had liked the kiss. A lot. But if Saeran never wanted to do it again, that was okay. Yoosung still had the memory of it, and he was still immensely grateful that his first kiss had been with someone he liked so much.

_Or loved._

What? No! Yoosung didn’t _love_ Saeran. Well… he did love him. He loved everyone in the RFA. But he wasn’t _in_ love with him. Not yet. He couldn’t be. He couldn’t allow himself to fall in love with Saeran while everything was still so uncertain.

Yoosung gulped. He suddenly got the horrible feeling that he was already in the process of falling.

He flipped open his phone again and quickly typed out a text to Saeyoung before he lost his nerve.

 

                **(07:50)** How do you know when you’re in love?

 

He closed his phone as quickly as he’d opened it, putting in down and pulling his knees to his chest, burying his face in them. Saeyoung would know _exactly_ what he was talking about and _exactly_ who he meant. But it was out there now. Yoosung couldn’t un-send his message.

His phone buzzed again after what felt like hours, but in reality was only two minutes.

 

                **(07:52)** that’s a big question.

 

Yoosung couldn’t tell from the text what Saeyoung was feeling, and that scared him. His fingers shook as he typed out a response.

 

                **(07:53)** It’s okay. Never mind, I don’t know what came over me.

 

He threw his phone to the other end of his bed and shook his head violently. His stupid feelings didn’t matter today. What mattered was that Saeran woke up and was okay. _Then_ he could worry about this hole he’d dug himself into without realising.

 

* * *

 

Saeran was still asleep once they got there, looking exactly the same as he had the previous day. Was that good or bad? Yoosung didn’t know.

Once they’d sat down, Saeyoung coughed suddenly and scratched the back of his head, which Yoosung knew was what he did when he had something on his mind.

“What is it?” Yoosung asked, tearing his eyes from Saeran to look at Saeyoung directly.

“I… uh, you asked me how you know when you’re in love…”

“Oh…” Yoosung gulped, waving his arm dismissively and letting out an awkward laugh. “That. Don’t worry about it. I was being stupid, as usual.”

“Do you… do you think you are?” Saeyoung asked, his voice strained.

“We really don’t have to talk about this.” Yoosung felt like his throat was made of sandpaper.

“I… I want to,” Saeyoung insisted. “If you think there’s any chance… any chance you might-”

“No, no it’s fine. I was just wondering. That’s not what matters right now anyway.” Yoosung turned determinedly back to Saeran, watching his slightly parted lips as his chest rose and fell.

“Okay, well… just for the record, I think you are.”

Yoosung choked on the breath he was taking. “W-what?!”

“I think you are. In love. With Saeran,” Saeyoung said, his sentence in weird, short bursts. He looked to his brother. “The way you look at him… it’s the way I would imagine I look when I look at Minhee.”

“I…” Yoosung couldn’t think of the words to say, and he swallowed the sudden build-up of saliva in his mouth. “It’s not important. We just… we just have to wait for him to… to wake up…”

“He definitely cares about you,” Saeyoung carried on, despite Yoosung insisting it wasn’t important. “I don’t know… I don’t know if it’s love… I, uh, I’m not sure if he’s ready for that yet, but I-”

“It’s okay, Saeyoung, don’t worry about it,” Yoosung spoke a little louder.

“Wait, let me finish,” Saeyoung told him. “I’m not sure he’s ready for that yet, but I think he could eventually. Love you, I mean.”

“Saeyoung,” Yoosung managed to choke out. “I… please don’t keep giving me hope. I don’t… I don’t want to expect things of him that he can’t give.” He glanced at Saeran for a second. He still hadn’t moved. “And what if he can hear us? I don’t want him to feel pressured. Let’s just… let’s just drop it, okay? I’ll deal with that once this is all over.”

Saeyoung nodded, and turned to look back at Saeran, a strange silence settling over them. Yoosung couldn’t tell whether it was awkward or not, and he pulled his hands to his body and rest them on his lap, trying to stop himself looking at the clock every thirty seconds.

It was 12:25 when Yoosung saw it. He had been looking at Saeran’s hand with his long, slender fingers which had once been laced through his own, when he saw one of them twitch. He felt himself freeze, barely daring to believe it. He couldn’t bring himself to breathe, and then he heard Saeyoung gasp and his head snapped up to look at Saeran’s face.

At first, he didn’t look like he was moving, but then Yoosung noticed his jaw clench and unclench slightly and his brow twitch.

“Saeran…” Saeyoung said softly, leaning closer. Yoosung leaned in too.

He heard Saeran let out a slightly heavier breath, different to his even breaths from before, and his eyes scrunched shut a little more tightly as his mouth opened a fraction more, letting out a strange, rasping sound.

“Saeran,” Saeyoung breathed, leaning closer. Saeran’s eyes opened slowly and he blinked up at his brother.

“Piss off,” he said hoarsely. Saeyoung stared at him a moment in disbelief before letting out an overwhelmingly relieved laugh and burying his face into Saeran’s chest.

Yoosung’s heart was beating faster than he thought it ever had before, and his voice was stuck in his throat. Saeran was awake. This was all he had wanted, but for some reason the relief hadn’t quite hit him yet. Almost as though this weren’t real.

Suddenly, Saeran’s eyes drifted from the ceiling to look at Yoosung from over his brother’s head, and Yoosung felt himself take a sharp intake of breath at the sight of those mint green eyes he’d been worried he’d never get to see again.

“Saeran,” he whispered, and Saeyoung lifted his head up and leaned back. Saeran’s face was unreadable.

“Yoosung,” Saeran breathed, his eyes softening slightly, and Yoosung felt the sudden wave of relief and happiness wash over him.

“Oh my God,” he choked out, feeling a tear roll down his cheek. “You’re okay.”

There was a moment of silence as Saeran stared at him, and Yoosung stared straight back. He still couldn’t read his expression, but that didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that he was finally awake.

“We were so worried,” Saeyoung told him softly, resting his hand on Saeran’s arm. Saeran dragged his eyes from Yoosung to look up at his brother, and he pressed his lips together before speaking.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was so small and apologetic, and Yoosung wasn’t certain he’d ever heard him sound so openly weak before.

“That’s okay… it’s okay… I just...” Saeyoung gulped before continuing. “I just want you to know that I’m always here for you, okay? I’m… I don’t know what changed your mind at the last minute, but I’m glad it did.”

Saeran’s eyes flicked over to Yoosung quickly, and Yoosung suddenly got the impression he was intruding on a very private moment. He remembered his promise to not ever crowd Saeran, or make him feel uncomfortable again, so he stood shakily.

“I’ll… uh… I’ll go and, uh…” he stuttered weakly, “I’ll give you some space.”

“Wait,” Saeran said suddenly, raising his arm to reach out to him before flinching as it got pulled back by the needle in his hand. He looked at it in irritation before looking back at Yoosung, opening his mouth and closing it again twice before finally speaking. “Thank you.”

Yoosung blinked at him in disbelief, but decided not to question it. “I… uhm, you’re welcome.”

And with that, he headed from the room, trying to imagine himself leaving his aching heart behind him. It became clear he hadn’t when the tears started pushing themselves from his eyes, falling freely down his face as he slid down the wall to sit on the floor along the hallway.

Now what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last yoosung chapter can u hear me crying


	18. this impossible year

**_saeran_ **

Therapy. That was the one condition they let him go home. If he agreed to therapy.

Part of him was angry at the idea. Why the fuck should he have to go to therapy?

But, then again, another part of him told him that he probably should have been going all along.

So, he agreed, on the one condition that he would be allowed to choose his own therapist. Actually, that condition had been more Saeyoung’s idea. No doubt he wanted to handpick the best possible person for the job and swear them to absolute confidentiality. Saeran was a murderer, after all. He wasn’t sure how that would go down if he decided to bring it up.

The idea of therapy scared him, but that wasn’t what was on his mind as he left the hospital with Saeyoung. Instead he was thinking of Yoosung. He felt a strange urge to speak to him… to explain himself. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that Yoosung might just abandon Saeran now that he’d woken up. Even though Yoosung had told Saeran he had feelings for him after their kiss, he knew he was a burden. But right now he was filled with both determination and exhaustion, a dangerous combination which would undoubtedly mean he would be honest. He had to cling to it while he could, or else he might never be able to express his emotions properly.

Once they’d got into the car, Saeran didn’t hesitate to bring it up.

“I want to talk to Yoosung.” There was no point dancing around the topic. “Can you text him?”

“Okay,” Saeyoung replied, pulling out his phone. Saeran wished he could text Yoosung himself, but his phone was probably still lying on his bedroom floor, and he couldn’t wait that long. Once the message was sent, Saeyoung turned to him with a strange look in his eyes that Saeran couldn’t quite place. “Please be careful with him.”

Saeran furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

Saeyoung started up the car and cleared his throat. “He’s… uh, he’s not in a good place right now.”

“Yoosung’s the strongest person I know,” Saeran told Saeyoung, folding his arms over his chest and looking out the car window as they drove onto the main road. “You said the same thing yourself.”

“I know, I know.” Saeyoung nodded, voice thick in his throat as he paid extra close attention to the road. “And I stand by that. But this… this is different.”

“How?” Saeran didn’t see how this could be any different. Yoosung was still strong. He always had been, people just didn’t see it.

“I don’t know. Just… no matter what happens it’s going to be difficult for both of you, so please… be careful.”

Saeran didn’t entirely understand what Saeyoung meant, but his brain was too full already to try and figure it out. His arms were aching and he desperately wanted to rip off his bandages to get some air to them, but he knew that wouldn’t be a good idea. His head was still a little fuzzy from whatever drugs he’d been on. And his thoughts were still full of _Yoosung_.

That last moment before he’d passed out had been like a kind of realisation for him. Of course he had feelings for Yoosung, he just hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself. Yoosung was like… like a glimmer of hope in the darkness of his mind. He wasn’t entirely sure exactly what Yoosung wanted from him, but whatever it was, he would be willing to give. Saeran knew it would be difficult, and he knew he would still have bad days, but he desperately wanted to be with him in any way he possibly could. Was this… what was this feeling?

“Saeyoung,” he said suddenly, before he could lose his nerve.

“Yeah?”

“How do you know when you’re in love?”

Saeran wasn’t sure exactly what reaction he had been expecting, but it definitely wasn’t Saeyoung choking so hard on his own breath that he had to pull over to the side of the road. Was that… was that a bad question?

“What? What is it?” Saeran asked, feeling himself panic a little.

“I just…” Saeyoung shook his head and cleared his throat multiple times. Saeran was surprised to hear him bark out a laugh. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Why? You always go on about how much you love Minhee. I figured you’d be the best person to ask.”

“That’s not…” He shook his head, grinning. “Uhm, well, do you think you are?”

“In love?” Saeran clarified, uncertain of how to respond. He hadn’t expected Saeyoung to flip the question back on him like that. “I don’t know. That’s why I asked you.”

“I think you need to talk to Yoosung,” Saeyoung told him, starting up the car again and pulling back onto the road. “You guys are more… similar than you might think.”

“Who said this is about Yoosung?” Saeran glared at him, but they both knew his words were pointless. Saeyoung just raised his eyebrows and gave him a knowing look, so Saeran grumpily turned away and looked back out the window at the trees flying past. That had been entirely unhelpful.

Once they arrived home, to Saeran’s surprise they were met with Yoosung already standing outside. Saeran felt his legs wobble slightly as he got out the car, and his stomach flipped strangely, so he gripped hold of the car door to steady himself.

“Saeran, are you okay?” Saeyoung asked, heading round the car to stand by him.

“Yeah… yeah, it’s fine,” Saeran told him, but when he looked up at Yoosung again, he slid down slightly and gripped hold of the door more tightly.

“Come on.” Saeyoung gently took hold of Saeran’s arm, throwing it over his shoulder as he wrapped his around his waist to support him.

“I don’t need your help,” Saeran growled. He wouldn’t admit that he actually liked the soft physical contact. It comforted him.

“Yeah, alright, whatever,” Saeyoung told him, a smile in his voice as he helped his twin over to the front door, kicking the car door shut behind him. When they reached the door, Yoosung looked up at them, that same sparkle in his eyes that he always had.

“Saeran! I’m so glad you’re back home,” he greeted. He sounded excited but strangely… strained? Saeran wondered if he’d been misreading the entire situation, and that Yoosung had changed his mind and decided he didn’t want anything more to do with Saeran. He gulped down the sudden negative thoughts lurking around the edges of his mind.

“Yeah, it’s better than the hospital.” His lame attempt at a joke still managed to get a laugh out of Yoosung, and Saeran tried to ignore how his stomach flipped at the sound. Now that he was aware of his feelings, the details were so much more difficult to ignore.

Saeyoung unlocked the door, letting the three of them inside.

“Yoosung, could you take Saeran to sit down for me?” Saeyoung asked, and Saeran didn’t miss the overly-casual nature of his voice. He was sure Yoosung didn’t either.

“Me?” Yoosung sounded surprised.

“Yeah, I have a few things I need to take care of outside,” Saeyoung’s voice was way too smooth.

“Oh… um, yeah, sure,” Yoosung stammered, stepping closer to Saeran, as Saeyoung unlooped his arm from Saeran’s waist and Saeran pulled his arm from around his shoulder.

“It’s okay. I can walk by myself,” he insisted, shooting his brother a glare before his legs wobbled again underneath him. Before he had a chance to fall, he felt another pair of arms wrap themselves around his torso. He looked at Yoosung in surprise, who pulled back slightly so his hand was tentatively holding Saeran’s waist.

“Oh… sorry, you looked like you were going to fall.”

“That’s… that’s okay,” Saeran gulped, hesitantly snaking his arm around Yoosung’s shoulder, trying to ignore how fast his heart was beating.

“Right, see you guys soon,” Saeyoung said, the grin in his voice painfully obvious, before darting out the door and shutting it behind him, leaving Saeran and Yoosung alone.

“I guess… I guess you should sit down?” Yoosung suggested, and Saeran just nodded, not trusting himself to be able to speak properly. Eventually they reached the sofa, and Yoosung helped Saeran sit down before quickly pulling back and standing in front of him, fiddling with his sleeve. “Do you want me to get you anything? I don’t know how much food there is in the house, but I could probably find something. Or I could get you a blanket or some water or something. Or did you want to go to sleep? I could help you to your bed if you want. Or I could find a book or something-”

“Yoosung,” Saeran interrupted his rambling, trying to ignore the nerves building up inside him. “Just… just sit down… please?”

Yoosung’s eyes widened at the request, but he obediently sat down besides Saeran. “Okay.”

Saeran gulped down the sudden build-up of saliva in his throat. How did people usually start conversations like this? He looked down at his hands, fingers intertwining with each other nervously.

“Saeyoung said you wanted to talk to me,” Yoosung stated slowly.

“Yeah, I do,” Saeran admitted. “I just don’t really know how to start.”

“Can I… can I say something first?” Yoosung asked, and Saeran looked up at him to see him staring down at his hands too. He glanced up at Saeran quickly, giving him an uneasy smile. Did Saeran really make him that uncomfortable? He felt the doubt begin to take hold.

“Okay.”

Yoosung drew in a deep breath. “I don’t really know how to start either.” He laughed nervously. “And… I want you to know, before I do, that I don’t want to pressure you in any way or make you feel like you _have_ to do anything…” Yoosung trailed off.

“Okay.” Saeran frowned slightly, confused at where this was heading. Yoosung inhaled another deep breath.

“I like you, Saeran. I want to be there for you whenever you need me to, but if you… if you don’t want to be friends or anything, I guess… I guess that’s fine too. There isn’t anything I can do about that. But I want you to know that whatever you want me to be, I will be. I’ll listen to you if you need me to or I can just… we can sit in silence if you need that.” Yoosung coughed awkwardly. “Man, this was so much easier when you were asleep.”

“Huh?”

“Oh! Nothing, I just…” Yoosung looked at Saeran, a pink flush tinting his cheeks. “When you were in hospital I… I spoke to you. It was easier because you couldn’t hear me, I guess.”

“Oh,” Saeran wasn’t really sure what to say. “Well… I do still want to be friends.”

“Really?” Yoosung’s entire face lifted when he smiled and Saeran found himself smiling back automatically.

“Yeah.” Saeran nodded, and his hand twitched slightly, begging to be allowed to lace its fingers through Yoosung’s.

“Oh, thank God.” Yoosung breathed out a sigh of relief, pressing a hand against his chest and smiling so widely it must have hurt his cheeks. “I was so worried you wouldn’t want to even be friends after… after I…” Yoosung coughed, the smile siding from his face, his hands falling limply to his sides. “After I screwed everything up.”

“What do you mean?”

“The… the kiss…” Yoosung’s voice was barely a whisper, and Saeran noticed how his face was still flushed and how he subconsciously pursed his lips slightly, as though remembering the moment they had shared… the most intimate moment of Yoosung’s life so far.

This was Saeran’s chance.

Yoosung’s hand was on the sofa, clutching at the fabric slightly, and Saeran took the opportunity to reach out his hand and rest it on top of Yoosung’s. Yoosung jumped slightly at the sudden contact, eyes widening as he turned to look at Saeran.

“I liked the kiss,” Saeran confessed.

It was as though the tension in the air was liquid, and Saeran could feel his heart pumping faster than it ever had before, his breath caught in his throat as he waited for the reply. Yoosung stared at him for a moment, a look of cautious disbelief on his face.

“Y-you did?”

Saeran nodded, unable to speak. Was this a mistake? Had he just ruined everything?

“But I… but I thought…” Yoosung trailed off, his eyes staring straight into Saeran’s as though trying to pick up whether or not he was lying.

“I like you,” Saeran told him in a hoarse voice, his eyes dropping to stare at his hand resting on Yoosung’s. “As more… as more than a friend, I think. I just… I didn’t realise it for a long time. I know what I said before about… not liking you, but I was scared. I still am, actually.” He let out a small, nervous laugh. “My head’s not that easy to navigate sometimes, but somehow you… you’re in there. All the time. You’re the reason I… I changed my mind at the last minute. I thought of you and… and the thought of never being able to see you again…” Saeran’s voice caught in his throat, and he choked back tears at the memory of it. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t feel the same… I know you said you did before, in the heat of the moment, but I don’t know how you feel now and that’s okay. I just wanted you to know.”

“Saeran,” Yoosung whispered, and Saeran looked up at him from under his hair. “I do.”

“What?”

“I do feel the same,” Yoosung told him, his eyes full of sincerity, but Saeran still wasn’t sure whether to believe it. Could he trust his own mind to interpret this moment? Was this really happening?

Before he knew what was happening, Yoosung had reached up to gently brush Saeran’s hair out his eyes. Saeran felt his heart flutter.

“You do?”

“Of course I do!” Yoosung all but laughed, tears filling his eyes. “I thought _you_ wouldn’t want to be with _me_. I was totally ready to just be your friend instead.”

Saeran stared up at Yoosung for a moment before launching forwards and wrapping his arms around his shoulders desperately, unable to hold back a laugh of relief. Yoosung wrapped his arms around Saeran’s torso, pulling him as close as he possibly could as Saeran buried his head in his shoulder.

“This is impossible,” Saeran told him.

“Well, it’s been a pretty impossible year, if you think about everything that’s happened.” Yoosung laughed a little hysterically, and Saeran didn’t blame him. “I’m just… I don’t think I can explain how happy I am right now.”

“Me either,” Saeran murmured into the crook of Yoosung’s neck, smiling even wider when he felt him shiver as his breath brushed his skin.

“Can I… can I kiss you again?” Yoosung asked tentatively.

“No.”

“What?” Yoosung sounded a little hurt. “Why?”

“Because I want to hug you, idiot.” Yoosung laughed at this, and buried his face into Saeran’s neck too.

“And I thought _I_ was the clingy one,” he murmured, and Saeran felt Yoosung’s hot breath against him.

There was a moment of silence. Neither of them wanted to let go, but eventually Saeran pulled back out of the hug. He still hadn’t finished with everything he needed to say.

“It’s still going to be hard sometimes,” he told Yoosung, looking down at his hands as they fell into his lap. He fidgeted with the bandages on his wrist. “I’m not… I’m still going to have bad days. I don’t know how bad, because I feel okay at the moment, but… they could be _really_ bad.”

“I can deal with that,” Yoosung said determinedly, and Saeran felt himself smiling sadly.

“I’ll probably try and push you away.”

“That’s okay.”

“I might try and hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Yoosung said confidently, and Saeran looked up at him, frowning.

“I don’t want to right now, but I might at some point in the future,” Saeran insisted.

“You won’t,” Yoosung repeated, smiling at him.

“I’m a toxic person, Yoosung. I don’t want to corrupt you in any way,” Saeran’s voice was getting quieter and quieter as he spoke.

“You are not a toxic person,” Yoosung told him, reaching out and shyly taking Saeran’s hand in his own. They laced their fingers together, and Saeran felt the butterflies in his heart. “You think you are, but you’re not. You’re a good person, Saeran. I think I told you that the first time we spoke properly. I still believe it, and I always will.” He paused before laughing. “How could anyone whose favourite food is strawberry ice-cream be a bad person?”

Saeran looked up at him in surprise. “You remembered that?”

“Of course I did!” Yoosung told him, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I even have… actually never mind.”

“What?”

“No, it doesn’t matter. It’s _weird_.”

“What is?” Saeran was confused. “What’s weird? What do you have?”

“It’s just this list thing,” Yoosung said dismissively, “Don’t worry about it. Maybe I’ll tell you about it some other time.”

“…Okay?” Saeran raised an eyebrow.

“Can I kiss you now?” Yoosung asked again a little frustratedly.

“No.”

“Why not?” Yoosung all but whined.

“Because,” Saeran reached up and placed his hand under Yoosung’s chin, tilting his head upwards. Saeran wasn’t sure where this sudden burst of confidence had come from, but he rolled with it. “ _I_ want to kiss _you_.”

Yoosung’s eyes widened as Saeran leaned in and pressed his lips against Yoosung’s.

To think that he’d almost missed out on ever feeling this again. Yoosung’s soft lips touching his sent the butterflies in his stomach and heart into overdrive, and when Yoosung’s fingers reached up to tangle in Saeran’s hair, Saeran couldn’t hold back the gasp that escaped his lungs. Yoosung took the opportunity to slide his tongue into Saeran’s mouth, and Saeran felt his heart leap at the already-familiar feeling. His hand slipped along Yoosung’s jaw to cup it as he stroked his cheek gently, while his other hand grasped hold of his shirt to pull him closer.

It was impossible to describe the countless emotions rushing through his body, so he just let himself get lost in the moment. His entire body was flushed with heat, and all of a sudden he was extremely aware of every tiny movement Yoosung made.

Suddenly, there was a loud cough and they sprung apart, heads snapping in the direction of the noise.

“Well, it’s nice to see you two have… uh, _made up,_ ” Saeyoung told them, grinning annoyingly from the doorway, twirling his car keys around his index finger, “but I would appreciate it if you didn’t _make up_ right in the middle of my house where anyone can see.”

Saeran ignored the angry red colour he was almost certain his cheeks had become, and said, “Fine. We’ll go to my room then.”

He saw Saeyoung’s grin drop from his face and, honestly, the expression of shock was almost enough to make up for the fact he’d disturbed them. Saeran stood up and grabbed Yoosung’s wrist, dragging him towards his bedroom and slamming the door pointedly behind them. He was immensely glad that someone seemed to have washed his sheets and scrubbed the blood from the walls. He shivered at the thought of dragging Yoosung into a place like that.

“He’s such a dick,” Saeran said apologetically, turning to Yoosung. He was blushing harder than Saeran thought was even possible. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

“I can’t believe he saw us!” Yoosung buried his face in his hands.

“Oh… uh, well, I mean… it’s fine,” Saeran tried to reassure him. “I walk in on him and Minhee kissing all the time.”

Yoosung made a muffled noise of embarrassment into his hands. Saeran reached up and grasped his wrist, tugging at it slightly to pull it away from his face. He was shocked when Yoosung leaned into him, burying his head into his shoulder and gripping at his shirt, making another noise of embarrassment.

“Honestly, it’s no big deal,” Saeran told him. He wasn’t completely sure what to do with his arms, so he wrapped them tentatively around Yoosung. He could feel his legs starting to wobble again. “Is it… uh, is it ok if we sit down?”

“Oh! Of course!” Yoosung pulled back, still hiding his red face from Saeran by looking at the floor. Saeran headed over to the bed and sat down before Yoosung came and sat next to him, still not looking up.

“It really is fine, Yoosung,” Saeran told him, reaching out to hold his hand. His head snapped up suddenly to look at Saeran as they laced their fingers together.

“Do you like holding my hand?”

“Uh…” Saeran was surprised at the sudden question, not quite sure where it had come from. “Yeah, why? Do you not like it?”

“Oh, no! I do!” Yoosung insisted. “I just wanted to know.”

There was a moment of silence as Yoosung looked down at their joined hands before leaning his head to rest it on Saeran’s shoulder.

“Is this okay?” he asked. Saeran gulped at the feeling of Yoosung’s hair tickling his neck.

“Y-yes.” He cursed himself for stuttering.

“Wait, are you tired?” Yoosung asked abruptly, lifting his head from his shoulder, and Saeran felt the sudden absence of his heat. “Do you want to sleep?”

Once Yoosung had said it, he realised how tired he really was. Suddenly his eyes were struggling to stay open, and his body wanted to sink into his mattress.

“Mhmm,” he murmured, stifling a yawn. “Stay with me?”

“Oh!” Yoosung squeaked, the blood returning to his cheeks. “Uhm… okay.”

After kicking off their shoes and shuffling a little awkwardly, they were lying next to each other on their backs with their arms barely touching, looking at the ceiling.

“So, this is the ceiling you always stare at?” Yoosung whispered. Saeran turned his head to look at Yoosung in surprise.

“You really remember a lot,” he observed.

“Oh! Um, I guess so,” Yoosung was flustered, and Saeran smiled at him, before turning onto his side to face Yoosung properly. Yoosung did the same.

“Is this weird?” Saeran asked. He still wasn’t entirely sure he was very good with personal boundaries yet.

“No,” Yoosung reassured him, giving him a soft smile that made his heart skip. “It’s nice.”

Before Saeran could reply, Yoosung had shuffled towards him and curled up in a ball against his chest, clutching at his shirt to pull himself closer. After a moment of surprise, Saeran wrapped his arm around Yoosung.

“I can hear your heart,” Yoosung whispered. Saeran gulped.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Yoosung breathed, and Saeran felt a finger trailing across his chest. “It’s good to know it’s beating as fast as mine.”

Saeran felt his face break out into a smile that came so naturally with Yoosung beside him. He buried his face into Yoosung’s hair and inhaled his scent, closing his eyes.

A month ago, he would have considered it absolutely impossible for him to feel content with himself and for him to be able to trust anyone ever again. But Yoosung had turned that on its head entirely and forced him to see the world from a new perspective. He knew he would still have bad days and he knew there were still countless issues they needed to work through, but in that moment he felt as though he could combat anything thrown his way.

Saeran still didn’t know if this feeling was love, but he knew it was pretty damn close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally supposed to be the final chapter, but I'm too attached to say goodbye just yet, so there will be an epilogue!


	19. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *punches self* I shoulda left it

**_saeran_ **

 

**TWO MONTHS LATER**

 

Saeran didn’t like taking risks. Leaving his fate up to chance or other people was not something he enjoyed, and he had always much preferred to close himself off and sit in his own bubble than face reality.

This was still true, but with one major exception.

Yoosung.

Yoosung was a risk Saeran had taken. Deciding to let Yoosung in had forced Saeran to face reality and stop shutting himself off. Placing his trust in him had been his biggest risk of all, and the thought that someone as innocent as Yoosung had pushed Saeran to break all his ideals seemed ridiculous, but Saeran wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Saeran tore his eyes away from the sky to look at Yoosung as they sat together in a small clearing in the forest. They came here frequently, and Saeran loved how peaceful Yoosung always seemed to look when they were here. Today was no exception, and Saeran gazed at him as Yoosung leant back on his hands and tilted his head up to the sky, eyes closed. Saeran felt a smile break across his face at the sight of the soft sunlight filtering through his hair. It almost looked like a halo.

Their relationship was by no means perfect. As Saeran had expected from the very start, there were still times where he got scared and tried pushing him away. There were times Yoosung didn’t entirely understand what was going on or how he was feeling. There were times where he upset Yoosung, and times where he lashed out at him to try and scare him away. He had never physically hurt him, but he had come terrifyingly close, and those moments still haunted Saeran. Trusting Yoosung was, surprisingly, a lot easier than trusting himself.

Persistence. That was another thing Saeran found he had come to like, and Yoosung was full of it. Saeran knew he would always have bad days, and that he would be plagued with night terrors and panic attacks for the rest of his life, but no matter how difficult things got, or how close Saeran came to giving up entirely, he trusted Yoosung to stick by him. There were still things Yoosung didn’t know and things Saeran knew they needed to overcome, but the persistence gave him hope – something he’d never really had before.

“I can feel you looking at me,” Yoosung told him, a smile spreading across his face as he slowly opened his eyes and looked over at Saeran. Saeran quickly averted his eyes, looking down at his hands and tugging at his sleeve slightly.

“Sorry,” he murmured an apology. He still wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with personal boundaries. He’d never had much human interaction that could be considered ‘normal’ or ‘healthy’, so he was still learning.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” Yoosung reassured him, shuffling to face Saeran and crossing his legs. Saeran turned to face him too, mirroring his position.

“Are you sure?” Saeran asked, and when he looked up at Yoosung he saw he was still smiling.

“Of course I am, silly.” Yoosung grinned, and Saeran grinned back sheepishly. Yoosung’s grin slowly slid from his face and morphed into a thoughtful expression. “Do you remember when I mentioned a list?”

“A list?” Saeran wracked his brains, trying to remember.

“Yeah, it was a little while ago now, but I said I’d tell you about it another time,” Yoosung reminded him. Saeran felt a faint spark of recognition in his mind.

“I think so. Why?”

“Well… I was just thinking about it.” Yoosung looked down nervously, a pink flush tinting his cheeks. “I think I want to tell you about it.”

“Okay.” Saeran nodded. Yoosung took in a deep breath.

“It’s a list in my head of things… about you. Things you like. I started remembering them so I always knew how to cheer you up when you needed me to.”

“Really?” Saeran felt his eyebrows shoot up at the thought of anyone doing something like that for _him_.

“Mmhm,” Yoosung looked embarrassed.

“What kind of things are on it?” Saeran asked, intrigued.

“Oh… y’know, things like the sky and ice cream and clouds…” Yoosung trailed off, clearly embarrassed at having brought it up.

“I hope you’re on that list,” Saeran said as casually as he could, but he couldn’t hold back the grin at Yoosung’s shocked expression.

“Uh… well, I…”

“And hugging you. And kissing you. And holding your hand,” Saeran continued, enjoying the progressively darker blush forming on Yoosung’s face. He buried his face in his hands.

“Stop!” he squealed.

“And how cute you are, and your eyes, and your hands, and your hair, and your-”

“Stop!” he squealed again, flapping his arms around in front of him. Saeran grabbed hold of his wrists and pulled Yoosung towards him, leaning forwards a little to place a quick kiss on his lips.

“Ugh,” Saeran groaned, dropping Yoosung’s wrists and leaning back, their knees still touching. “You make me go all soft. It’s weird.”

“You _are_ soft, Saeran,” Yoosung told him, eyes shining. “You just don’t want to admit it.”

“I am not soft.”

“Whatever you say.” Yoosung pointedly looked away from him and Saeran rolled his eyes. There was a comfortable silence for a moment, and Saeran’s eyes drifted towards the sky again. The sun was starting to set, so the pinks and oranges that came with it were beginning to leak into the blue. This was Saeran’s favourite time of day, partly because of the sky and partly because it was usually spent with Yoosung.

“You know,” Yoosung whispered, “I barely went outside before meeting you.”

Saeran looked away from the sky and back at Yoosung, who was staring straight at him with a softness in his eyes that made his pulse leap.

“Why not?”

“Because I just used to game all the time,” Yoosung admitted, tilting his head slightly to the side, “but now… now that I’ve met you, it makes me want to actually _do_ something with my life. It makes me want to be the best version of myself I can be.”

“You’re already a good person,” Saeran told him, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to understand.

“No, that’s not what I mean.” Yoosung shut his eyes and shook his head slightly, before opening them and staring down at the grass they were sat on. “I mean… with school. I used to slack off and play games instead of working, but now I want to work hard and get a proper job so I can-” Yoosung’s head suddenly snapped up to look at Saeran, eyes widening. “Oh! Sorry, I don’t mean to… I don’t want to…” he trailed off.

Saeran gulped. “You mean… you’re thinking about the…the future?”

“It’s okay! That’s not what I mean, I just… I don’t want to pressure you.” He buried his face into his hands. “Why do I always say such stupid things?”

“No… no, that’s okay,” Saeran told him, surprised when he found he was being honest. It really _was_ okay. “It’s good to prepare for the future.”

“I don’t want to pressure you,” Yoosung repeated.

“Let’s just take it as it comes,” Saeran said softly, reaching out to gently tug Yoosung’s hands away from his face. Yoosung let out a small sigh and nodded.

“You’re right,” he agreed, shuffling next to Saeran and dropping his head down to rest on his shoulder. Saeran reached out and laced his fingers through Yoosung’s, leaning to rest his cheek against Yoosung’s hair. There was a small pause, but this time, rather than it being comfortable, Saeran felt as though there was something hanging in the air. Something that needed to be said.

“Saeran,” Yoosung whispered, his voice strangely nervous as he broke the silence.

“Yeah?” Saeran replied, equally as quietly.

“There’s something I want to say,” he told him, lifting his head from his shoulder. Saeran turned his head to look at Yoosung, their faces inches apart.

“Okay,” he squeezed his hand gently.

Yoosung gulped, his purple eyes flicking down to Saeran’s lips for a moment before finding his eyes again. “You don’t have to reply, I just feel like I really need to say it.”

“Yoosung, you’re scaring me…” Saeran admitted. What was he going to tell him? He felt his anxiety start bubbling up in his throat.

“It’s okay, it’s nothing bad… at least, I hope…” Yoosung stammered. “It’s not supposed to be.”

“Just say it,” Saeran begged.

“Okay, I…” Yoosung breathed in deeply. “I think I’ve… I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Saeran stared at the glowing sunset reflected in Yoosung’s eyes as he processed the words, his breath catching in his throat in a way it never had before.

“Are you sure?” he blurted out. He knew how he was _supposed_ to respond to this confession, but he couldn’t understand how someone like Yoosung could possibly… there was just no way he could… was there?

“Yes,” Yoosung said, a little more certainly this time. “Maybe it’s too soon to say it but… but I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I wanted to tell you.”

“Oh…” was all Saeran could say. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat.

In all honesty, he’d been questioning the extent of his feelings for Yoosung for a while, but he hadn’t seriously thought about it since that time two months ago when he’d asked Saeyoung about it. It was a little overwhelming to think about the reality of being in love, because that meant putting his trust in someone else entirely.

But… if it was already true, and he’d already done it, where was the harm in saying it aloud?

“It feels good now that I’ve said it,” Yoosung whispered, mostly to himself, and Saeran looked up at him staring at the sunset.

“Me too,” Saeran suddenly blurted out, causing Yoosung to look at him again.

“Huh?”

“I… me too,” was all Saeran could say. “I think I have too.”

“You…really?” Yoosung asked, his eyes widening in either excitement or surprise, or perhaps both.

“Yeah,” Saeran told him, breaking eye contact and looking down at the grass, picking it out the ground nervously with his free hand. He had never felt so vulnerable.

All of a sudden, Yoosung pulled his hand from Saeran’s and flung his arms around his shoulders. The weight of Yoosung lunging against him pushed him off-balance, and he couldn’t stop himself falling backwards.

“Woah!” Saeran gripped hold of Yoosung’s shirt, pulling him along with him, and before he knew it he was flat on his back with Yoosung nuzzling his face into his neck.

“I didn’t expect you to feel like that, too,” Yoosung whispered, and Saeran could hear the grin in his voice.

“You’re an idiot,” Saeran told him, but a smile spread across his face. Yoosung pulled back from the hug, elbows resting either side of Saeran as he stared down at him. The smiled faded from both their faces, and Saeran could feel his heart pounding so hard it was as though it were trying to escape from his chest as intensely as he could feel Yoosung’s warm, irregular breaths against his mouth.

Yoosung leaned down and pressed his lips against Saeran’s softly, and Saeran’s eyes fluttered closed as he felt Yoosung’s hair tickling his forehead.

Saeran had never thought there was such a thing as a perfect moment, but with Yoosung, he seemed to be experiencing them more and more frequently.

He hoped they never stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully this last chapter didn't ruin it too much... I tried to make it work.  
> can you believe I actually finished this entire fic in 10 days wow I hope that doesn't make it seem too rushed.  
> as always, comments and kudos make my entire day!! thank you so much for reading this, it's the Yooran fic I've been wanting to write for a while now, so I hope I did it justice!


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